Blood Ties
by Adolescently
Summary: Sam's psychic powers seem to have disappeared, for now. But Meg saved Sam for a reason, and when Yellow Eyes returns, what was once a hunt for the Colt becomes a desperate race to keep Sam away from the powers of Hell itself. Sequel to Thicker Than Water.  On temporary hiatus - sorry!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, here it is - the sequel to Thicker Than Water :) I've decided the only way to force myself to write more is to actually start posting, so this is all I have so far. Hopefully I'll be posting every week, on Saturdays, but we'll see how it goes. I hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, not even a witty way to phrase this statement.**

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><p>It took him exactly a month to claw his way out of Hell.<p>

He could have done it faster, maybe. He could have even left back when Winchester tried out that summoning ritual, rather than sending Meg. But the Winchesters needed to know who was in charge here, needed to know that even their best efforts couldn't bring Azazel to them.

Of course, after a month of blood and bones and screaming souls, he was having second thoughts. Hell really gave him a headache. He spent more time in that place than he'd have liked – after all, he was practically ruling the place, what with the big guy locked up in his little box till the apocalypse hit them. And boy, was that gonna be big, though even Azazel didn't know how big. He didn't know anything more than the rest of the demons, despite being much higher up on the food chain.

Besides, he had bigger fish to fry. Little Sammy had been doing nicely until it all went pear-shaped, the kid lashing out with his powers and actually managing to send Azazel back to where he'd come from. He shouldn't have let his guard down – _that_ certainly wouldn't be happening again.

This time, Azazel would do it right. Sam Winchester was dispensable, but he'd rather not get rid of him; the boy had so much potential. He could get it right, this time. It was all just a matter of leverage.

The first thing he did once he was top-side was send a little message to Sam.

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><p>The first thing that hit him was the smoke. Thick and black, the acrid scent invading his nostrils and choking up his lungs as he doubled over, coughing. His eyes streamed even as they searched desperately for his brother.<p>

It was impossible to see anything through the flames, though, and he had no idea which way it was to safety, or his brother. Sweat-sticky clothes clung to his skin and over the roaring in his ears all he could hear was screaming.

A familiar scream.

His brother.

Then the screaming stopped and somehow he knew, with crippling certainty, that his brother was dead. From the smoke or the fire or something else, whatever, it didn't matter. Not now. Nothing mattered.

Smoke filled his vision and finally, belatedly, he fell to the floor where the cleaner air was. He opened his mouth to shout for his brother, his dad, anyone, but the words caught in his throat. He choked on them, coughing and hacking and sobbing, trying to make himself _move_.

The last thing he saw before his vision blackened completely was a familiar pair of bright yellow eyes.

_"Is this really what you want, Sammy-boy?"_

When he woke up, he was soaked with sweat and gasping like he'd just ran a marathon. He glanced to his side. Dean was snoring in the bed next to him, drool soaking the pillow. Wrinkling his nose, Sam turned to look the other way. John, having lost the coin toss earlier that day, was crashed out on the sofa.

Neither of them were awake. Everything was normal.

How could everything be normal after the dream he'd just had? It felt like he should have woken up to find the world completely different. Then again, this was the third time he'd had that dream, and nothing had changed before. He blinked, irritated by the headache throbbing just behind his eyes, and tried to go back to sleep.

It didn't work. Thoughts swirled around his mind, a panicked jumble of half consciousness, and he buried his head in his pillow to try and silence them. This was bad, he knew. Those yellow eyes weren't just any eyes.

He should tell Dean.

But what could his brother do? They were dreams. While he probably wanted to, Dean couldn't protect Sam from dreams. And it wasn't as if they could go and kill the demon instead – firstly, he was in Hell, where Sam had sent him, and secondly, they had no way to kill him.

Basically, they were screwed.

John thought he had a lead on the Colt, but he'd thought that the last two times and they had turned up nothing. The Colt was an elusive object, the kind of thing hunters talked about in hushed tones at the back of seedy bars. Everyone had a different theory on where it was, making the thing damn near impossible to find. Sometimes, Sam wondered if it was even real or whether they were just chasing shadows.

"S'my?"

He glanced across the room. Dean was propped up on his elbows, squinting through the dim light towards his brother. Rubbing one eye, he asked, "Y'okay?"

"Yeah." The words were out before Sam could stop them. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a dream."

Dean looked at him suspiciously for a few moments, the effect dulled by the weariness in his eyes. Then he nodded and slid back down under the covers, and was asleep within minutes. Sighing, Sam tried to follow suit.

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><p>Something was up with Sam.<p>

The kid had hardly spoken all through breakfast (another greasy special at the latest crappy diner) and he looked pale, with dark smudges under his eyes like he hadn't slept well. Sam wasn't exactly known for having a good night's sleep though, especially just lately. After... well, after everything.

Dean clenched his teeth, feeling his protectiveness flare as he glanced across the table at his brother and wondered why any demon would want to take his scrawny, floppy haired kid away from them. It wasn't fair. He stabbed viciously at a piece of bacon and encouraged himself with the thought that they would have the Colt soon.

Only they hadn't made any progress on that either. They had no damn idea where the gun was and they needed it now more than ever. Rather than getting better after their fight against the demon, Sam was just getting worse, withdrawing into himself and hardly speaking.

Sam glanced up from his breakfast and for a split-second, their eyes met before Sam looked down again. Dean frowned at the top of his head, more concerned than he would ever admit. Finally, he asked, "Y'okay, Sammy?" Cool. Casual. Definitely not freaking out.

"Huh?" Sam looked up again from where he was pushing food around his plate. "Uh, yeah. M'fine. Just tired."

John stopped poring over his journal for a second to exchange a worried look with Dean. Then, eyebrows furrowed, he said, "You boys done here?"

"Yes, Sir," they responded together and John flipped his journal closed.

"Let's get going. I think I have another lead, couple of hours away. I wanna get there by noon." John rose and slipped out of the booth seat. He slapped a couple of bills on the table and Dean followed him, Sam trailing along behind, squinting down at his shoes and holding a hand to his head. Dean frowned, wondering if Sam had another headache, and wrapped an arm loosely around him, pulling Sam to his side. Briefly, he squeezed Sam's shoulder – _I'm right here_ – and they headed out to the car.

The Impala sat gleaming in the early morning light, waiting for their return. At least some things never changed.

John's phone rang just as he was unlocking the car. He paused to answer, leaning his arms on the roof of the Impala as he spoke. "John Winchester."

Sam and Dean leant against the side of the Impala, staring across the parking lot. "So what's really wrong with you?" Dean asked casually, not looking at Sam.

"What are you talking about, Bobby?" John kept talking in the background, oblivious to his sons' conversation.

"Nothing," Sam insisted.

"Uh huh." Dean shoved his hands into his pockets. "That's bullshit, though, isn't it?"

Sam sighed but didn't speak, squinting into the bright sunlight.

"Hold on, let me get my journal," John was saying, shoulder pressing the phone to his ear as he fumbled for a pen and his journal. "Okay, go." He balanced his journal on the Impala's roof and started to write. Dean tried not to protest at the violation of his baby.

"It's just a headache."

It took Dean a moment to realise Sam had just spoken, the response was so quiet. Sam didn't move from his position, didn't turn to look at Dean.

Dean looked at him appraisingly. "You sure?" The last time it had been 'just a headache', Sam had been having nightmares about the demon and the whole thing had ended in him being kidnapped and forced to drink demon blood. They weren't going to repeat that.

"Mmhm."

"Alright, got it. Yeah, I will." Then there was silence, so Dean assumed John had hung up. He glanced over at his dad, a question on his tongue.

John answered before he could ask. "Bobby's been gettin' demonic signs somewhere near here, he says."

Both brothers were silent. Dean frowned. "You don't think... not _the_ demon?"

"I'm not sure yet." John looked grim, swinging open the door to the Impala. "Let's get going, boys. We need to check this out."

Dean hesitated only briefly before he slid into shotgun, wondering what the hell they were going to do if it turned out to be the demon. They didn't have the Colt. They didn't have a plan. They didn't have anything to stop it taking Sam away from them, and John wanted to go _looking_ for it?

He couldn't help the protest that rose inside him, then, because it wanted Sam and that was crossing the God-damn line. "Dad-"

Dean was cut off by a gasp from Sam, who hadn't even made it inside the car yet. Sam was clutching the roof of the Impala with one hand, knuckles white, and the other was pressed against his forehead. Eyes screwed shut, he didn't look up as Dean shot out of his seat and around the Impala to face his brother.

"Sam?"

Sam didn't reply. A tiny whimper escaped his lips.

Panicking – what the hell was going on? - Dean grabbed his brother's arms tightly and tried to get a look at his face. It was scrunched up in pain and it didn't take much for it to click because this wasn't a frigging headache, was it, it was a God-damn vision, dream, whatever. It was the demon.

"Ah, crap," he murmured.

"What the hell?" John was out of the car, now, standing beside his sons. Dean ignored him.

"C'mon, Sammy, breathe, just breathe, you're okay, c'mon dude." He was babbling, he knew, but he had to say something because that was all he could do right now, he couldn't help Sam when he was trapped inside his own damn head.

Suddenly, Sam went limp, hand falling away from the roof of the car. Dean wrapped his arms around his brother and Sam slumped against him. Lowering them both to the ground, Dean pressed a hand against his brother's neck and was relieved to find that yeah, his brother was still alive. He was just unconscious, that was all.

Except it wasn't all, was it? Sam was probably being visited by the demon again, probably having his mind invaded and his already shaken confidence destroyed. Hot protectiveness blazed inside him and he clenched his fists in Sam's shirt, resisting the urge to punch him.

"Dean." That was John. His voice was steady even if the rest of him wasn't and it had to be bad, didn't it, because John Winchester looked freaked out by it. "We've got to get him in the car. People will see."

Dean turned to glare at him. Sam was unconscious, had been fucking _whimpering_ in pain, and John was concerned about people seeing? John just stared back and, jaw clenched mutinously, Dean hauled Sam into the back seat. John closed the door behind them and Dean lay Sam down so that his head was resting on his lap.

They just couldn't catch a break. The demon, the Colt, now this?

They would just have to add it to their list of things to do. Find the Colt, kill the demon and – at the top of Dean's list – figure out what the hell was wrong with Sam.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Woo, Chapter 2! I just finished this last night - the system works ;D The next chapter should be up next Saturday, hopefully. Let me know what you think (I know you're out there, you lurkers) and I hope you enjoy!**

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><p>They made it back to the motel in record time.<p>

Sam woke up just as they were pulling into the parking lot. He squinted up at Dean from where he was lying and declared, "Dude, I can see right up your nose."

Dean snorted and Sam shifted so that he was sitting up, wincing as he moved. "You okay?" Dean felt like he was constantly asking that question these days, and he rarely got an answer that wasn't complete bullshit.

Scrunching his face up like he had to think about it, Sam nodded.

"Good," Dean said briskly. "'Cause as soon as we're inside you're gonna explain what the hell's been going on with you lately."

Sam didn't look too pleased with that – Dean _knew_ it, he knew he'd been hiding something – but he didn't protest. John, who had been watching them closely and frowning, opened the door and stepped out into the sunlight. He paused to wait for them to get out of the car before he strode off towards the motel, leaving Sam and Dean to hurry after him, Sam still looking at his feet like they were the most interesting things he'd ever seen.

The motel room was just like all the others they'd been in – stained, squalid and smelling a little bit of cigarette smoke. Dean wrinkled his nose and stepped over the salt line that had been laid down earlier, trying not to think about how it wouldn't stop _the_ demon. Instead, he went to sit at the edge of his bed, looking pointedly at Sam.

His brother got the hint. There would be no brushing off this conversation, no lying or downplaying what had been going on. They were going to talk, dammit, because they needed to know what the hell was going on so that they could keep Sam safe, that was the whole point, the only frigging point. Tentatively, Sam sat on his own bed, opposite Dean, rubbing his forehead as if he was still in pain.

John finished his inspection of the salt lines. He turned to face his sons, a frown creasing his features. "So," he said. "Sam." There was a pause, almost like even John didn't know what to say. "What the hell was that?"

Dean felt a brief flash of annoyance at the accusatory tone. It hadn't been _Sam's_ fault. The younger boy was clearly in pain and sure, they needed to know what the hell was happening but they didn't need to blame Sam for it.

Sam, on the other hand, either didn't notice or didn't care. "I... I dunno." He pinched the bridge of his nose and frowned, like he was trying to figure it out in his head.

"You don't know?" John repeated, incredulous. "You just collapsed in a damn parking lot, how can you not know what happened?"

Dean shot him a reproachful look as Sam bit his lip, looking almost frightened. That was unusual. Sam fought with their dad all the time, loud and angry and reckless. He wasn't frightened of their dad, which was an achievement considered how many people were intimidated by him. Dean stood up and moved the short distance between their beds to sit next to Sam. He slung his arm around the kid's skinny shoulders.

"Alright, kiddo, just tell us what you think happened." Sam frowned briefly – he hated being called kiddo – but he did seem to think about it.

Dean glanced up at John. Their dad's face was stony and Dean resisted the urge to sigh. He knew John thought he babied Sam, but he didn't get it. This wasn't babying him. This was just not freaking him out, something that John was a God-damn expert at.

Sam was silent for a long moment and then, just when Dean had started to think he wouldn't answer at all, he spoke. "I... I get these nightmares," he said, and Dean smiled wryly because yeah, he'd noticed. It was kinda hard not to. "They have the demon in them."

They stared at him. Sam had been dreaming about the demon and he didn't think it was worth mentioning? But Sam ploughed on, oblivious. "I dunno, I don't think they're... regular nightmares," he said, nose wrinkling at the poor description. "They've been happening pretty often. This is the first time it's happened when I'm awake, though." He glanced up at Dean, wide eyes pleading with Dean to believe him.

Dean opened his mouth to say something – what, he wasn't sure – but John beat him to it. "What happens in these dreams, Sam?"

Sam hesitated, looking almost scared as he thought about it, and Dean's arm unconsciously tightened around his brother. This demon was going down. Slowly, Sam relayed the contents of his nightmares to them. Dean swallowed. They sounded bad. That was probably an understatement. Blood and fire and pain were swirling around inside his little brother's head, each competing with the others to see who could do the most damage to Sam.

"Why didn't you tell us?" he asked, before John could say anything. He had seen the older man from the corner of his eye, spotted the telltale signs of frustration and he wasn't gonna let him take it out on Sam.

Sam shrugged, refusing to look up. "I dunno, I just... they're just dreams, right? Not a lot you guys can do." He shrugged again and Dean frowned at the top of his head, willing Sam to look at him.

"I thought you said they weren't regular nightmares?" John asked, tone hard.

"Well, they're definitely not now," Sam said, sounding a little annoyed at the accusation in their dad's voice. "I mean, how many regular nightmares happen while you're awake?"

John nodded slowly, still frowning. "It must be the demon."

Dean didn't like the sound of that. "It couldn't have got outta Hell that fast, could it?" It had only been a month since Sam sent the son-of-a-bitch back where he belonged.

He felt Sam tense beneath his arm and rubbed his shoulder comfortingly, a reminder that he was right there. Nothing bad was gonna get to Sam, not while he was around, especially not creepy-ass demons with yellow eyes.

Rubbing a hand against his jaw, John spoke again. "It might not be out of Hell. Could be doing whatever it's doing from Hell." He sank down onto the bed Dean had occupied minutes before. "We just don't know. Which means we need to move fast, get to the Colt before whatever it's planning goes down." He spoke quickly, firmly, and Dean felt something inside him relax at the confidence in John's tone.

Sam finally looked up. There was not a happy expression on his face. "But we don't even know where the Colt-" he cut himself off with a gasp of pain, hands leaping to clench around his head as if that would protect him from the pain inside it.

Dean swore. "Not again." He twisted around on the bed so that he was facing Sam, placing both hands on his shoulders. "C'mon, Sammy, breathe." _Shitshitshitshit_. This was not good. This was the opposite of good. This was... well, this was what happened to the Winchesters. Really, he should have expected it. Clenching his teeth and trying not to think about how frigging unfair all of his was, he focused on Sam, whose eyes were screwed shut as he made little noises of pain.

"You're okay, Sam, c'mon..."

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><p>The vision hit him without warning.<p>

One minute he was talking, the next he was doubled over in pain, clutching at his head.

Someone was whimpering. The pain was unbearable, relentlessly drilling through his skull until suddenly it wasn't the motel room he was seeing, but somewhere else entirely.

_Not again._

It was just a plain parking lot with a few hastily-parked cars. It felt wrong, somehow, that something so mundane would be the setting of... well, whatever this was. Then, as if seeing through someone else's eyes, Sam's vision swung around and he saw three very familiar people stepping out of a motel – the motel they were in right now.

As Sam watched, John, Dean and himself strode across the parking lot towards the Impala where she sat gleaming in the sunshine, oblivious to the imminent danger. Suddenly, a mousy-looking man came hurrying over to them, gnawing on his lip and wringing his hands. "Excuse me," he said, and his voice was reedy and nervous, "I wonder if you could help me."

John looked irritated, but he paused, waiting for the man to continue.

"I'm looking for someone." The man closed his eyes and when he opened them again, they were bright yellow. A smirk grew on his face as the Winchesters looked at him with various degrees of horror. "I think he goes by the name Sam Winchester."

Everything happened at once after that.

Demons burst from the most unexpected hiding places, leaping from nearby trees and sliding out from underneath cars, jumping off of the motel roof and Sam thought he even saw one wriggling out of a large bin. Huge, empty eyes like black holes stared at them as the demons moved to circle the three Winchesters and before John could so much as move for his gun, one of the demons leapt at him. His throat was slit in an instant and he collapsed to the ground, eyes wide open as if he was surprised by the quickness of his own death.

Dean and vision-Sam watched in horror. "You sonuva_bitch_!" Dean screamed, and then he was lunging towards Yellow-Eyes.

The demon laughed and with a flick of his wrist and a sickening crack he broke Dean's neck. Then he turned so that he was looking directly at Sam – the real one, not the one in his vision – and he grinned. "Gonna try and stop me, Sammy?"

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><p>His eyes snapped open and he realised, gasping, that he was back in the motel room, although he supposed he'd never really left. Dean had his hands on Sam's shoulders and was watching him with undisguised concern while John crouched in front of both of them, carefully scanning Sam's face – for what, he wasn't sure.<p>

"Sam?" Dean asked and if his voice shook, nobody mentioned it.

"We have to leave." Maybe he couldn't stop it. Maybe it was too late. Maybe his family were going to die.

It was too horrible an option to consider. Stomach twisting into knots, heart pounding, head feeling as though it were about to burst with pain, Sam spoke again. "We have to leave _now_."

"Why?" demanded John. "What happened?" But Dean was already moving, so in-tune with Sam that he knew how serious this was, knew they had to get going_ right now_. Sam was grateful for that even as he glared at his dad.

"Because the demon is coming and if we don't leave now then you and Dean are going to die," he snapped brusquely. That was enough to make Dean stop, duffel bag in hand, and for both him and John to stare at Sam.

"What?" said Sam defensively. "That's what I saw."

John looked grim. "Alright. Better be safe and get going." He grabbed his duffel bag and swung it over one shoulder, the weapons bag in his free hand. It was a good thing they had been planning to move on this morning anyway, Sam thought as he grabbed his own bag. His mouth felt very dry.

Within minutes, they were outside, striding towards the Impala. Dean had his hand on Sam's back, simultaneously guiding him – stopping him from panicking – and protecting him. Sam's gaze darted widely back and forth across the parking lot, wondering with each step whether this was it, whether the demon was going to jump out, whether they would get out of here alive.

Maybe he was being ridiculous.

Maybe it hadn't been a vision. He had been freaked out after his time with the demon, after all, and maybe it had just taken its toll on him. He had been having nightmares all of his life, this couldn't be that different. Except that they were during the day, and they were so _vivid_.

They stopped by the car and John unlocked it. Sam shifted nervously, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. This wasn't right. He glanced over his shoulder and was confronted with a pair of yellow eyes, inches from his face. He breathed in sharply, his heart hammering at the initial shock of seeing the demon. Alerted by the noise, John and Dean turned around.

And as the demon grinned lazily, as it said, "Howdy, Winchesters," in that stupid, cocky way it possessed and took a step towards him, Sam knew that he wasn't being ridiculous – but he certainly might not be breathing for much longer.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Oh man, this chapter was like pulling teeth... and I'm still not happy with it, so review and let me know what you think! Also, this is my last post as a thirteen-year-old, which is kind of cool. Okay, so it's not that cool. Whatever, just enjoy the chapter! :)**

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><p>Son of a <em>bitch<em>.

They were trapped. Again. Even knowing what was coming, even knowing how to beat the demon, they had been caught unaware. God freaking dammit. Dean fisted a hand in the back of Sam's shirt, pulling his brother towards him. The demon wasn't getting him this time.

John had already whipped his gun out and was holding it steadily, pointed at the demon's head. It wouldn't do any good, but it gave a small measure of security. "What do you want?" demanded John, his voice hard as rocks and just as steady. Dean wished he had that kind of resolve. He still hadn't managed to crush the initial terror that came from seeing the demon that had killed his mother and kidnapped his brother.

"Me?" The demon spread his arms out, eyebrows raised. "What makes you think I want anything?"

"Cut the crap," Dean ground out. John threw him a warning glance and he fell silent, glaring at the demon. He glanced down at Sam. His brother was staring at the demon with a mixture of horror and hatred, and Dean tightened his grip. No way. Nothing was getting Sam.

"Well, since you offered..." The demon grinned at them and stepped a fraction closer. Sam edged impossibly closer to Dean. "We had a good time together, didn't we, Sammy?" He leered unpleasantly at Sam, and Dean resisted the urge to growl at him, hating the way they were frozen, unable to move for fear that the demon would attack.

God-dammit.

"We could go back to that, Sammy," said the demon. "You were making _such_ good progress. What do ya say?"

Sam glared at him. "Screw you." Dean smirked a little, even under the circumstances. _That's my boy, Sammy._

"It's a shame you feel like that, Sammy-boy. I mean, you don't really get much choice in the matter." He grinned at them, eerily playful, and stepped towards Sam until they were just inches apart.

"Don't you touch him, you sonuvabitch," Dean snarled as he felt Sam's breathing hitch. Sam was scared, he knew, and that just made him more mad because _no one_ got to make his brother feel like that.

The demon flung his hand out without warning and Dean was forced away from Sam by some invisible force until he was pressed awkwardly up against the Impala. "I'll do what I like, Deano," said the demon lightly, though there was iron in his yellow eyes. "It's not like you've got the means to stop me, is it? And I even gave you a head start."

"What do you want?" repeated John forcefully, and only Dean saw the way the gun in his father's hand shook slightly, saw the clench in his jaw and the hint of panic in his eyes.

The demon turned his head to look at John. "I want Sam," he said easily. "I'd prefer to keep him and kill you, of course, but it's all a matter of leverage, so I'm gonna need you all to come with me." The shit-eating grin was back and Dean, held motionless, could do nothing but glare.

"Why?" Sam asked, and wasn't that a loaded freaking question, but the demon just looked at him and then at Dean and suddenly he was moving so fast that none of them could react and Dean felt his head hit something hard and then there was nothing but the darkness.

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><p>Sam cried out as the demon grabbed Dean's head and slammed it into the Impala, effectively knocking him out, and before either him or John could react, the demon was in front of John. He flicked his hand, sending the gun flying from John's grasp and into his, before slamming the gun against John's temple. Watching in horror as his dad fell to the floor, Sam tried to back away, to move, to do something, but found himself rooted to the spot.<p>

"And now we come to Sammy," the demon said softly, tucking John's gun into his belt. Sam made a mental note of it and wondered if he could get to it before the demon reacted. It wouldn't help, though, would it? There was nothing he could do without the Colt. "You gonna come willingly, Sammy-boy, or have I gotta hurt young Dean over here?"

"Don't touch him!" The words ripped themselves from his throat and Sam swallowed down the panic he felt well at the thought of Dean being hurt. "Don't touch him," he repeated, more softly

"That's not an answer, Sammy." The demon raised a hand threateningly in Dean's direction and Sam stepped forward, thinking wildly that there was nothing he could do, nothing, and Dean was going to get hurt but he couldn't just _go_ with the demon and-

-and the demon was about to hurt Dean and Sam knew what that kind of pain felt like, knew what the demon was capable of and suddenly he found himself blurting, "I'll come with you!"

The demon paused and turned to look at Sam with interest. "Just... don't hurt them." There was no question of who he meant.

"Excellent choice," the demon declared. Then he stepped towards Sam, closing the distance between them, and placed his hand across Sam's forward. There was a roaring noise in Sam's ears as his feet were ripped from the ground and they went spiralling upwards in a torrent of black smoke and he screwed his eyes shut, terrified. Within seconds, they were back on the ground, but not in the same place they had been before, and not with Dean and John.

They were in some kind of office building, that much was obvious, but it seemed to have been abandoned. Sam and the demon stood in the reception, where there was a large desk stretching from one wall to the one opposite it, a door behind the desk. The demon wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders and Sam had to fight not to push him away as the demon steered him into an elevator. The doors slid shut behind them and the demon pressed a button that would take them to the basement.

Sam glanced around the at the silver walls, wondering why the demon hadn't teleported them straight to the basement and, more importantly, where the hell his family was.

"Don't worry about your family, Sammy-boy," said the demon, as if reading his mind. "They'll be along soon enough, my pals are gonna see to that." Sam swallowed, trying not to think about what that meant. "In the meantime, you and I need to have a little conversation."

"Yeah?" Sam challenged, trying to disguise the quiver in his voice. "About what?"

The demon laughed. "Still got that fight in you, huh? That's good."

"About _what_?" repeated Sam through gritted teeth.

"You," said the demon. "You're dispensable, Sammy, much as I hate to admit it. I'd rather not kill you, but if I have to..." he trailed off and shrugged. "Just a little warning."

A heavy weight settled in the pit of Sam's stomach. Dispensable. He could be killed. Why hadn't the demon done it before now? Sam had exorcised him, surely that warranted his death. "I thought you needed me," he said instead, trying to keep his voice level as the panic inside him warred with anger. "That's why you trained me to use those sick powers, isn't it?"

"That's true, I guess," the demon agreed casually. "But y'know, Sammy, you're not the only kid I could use."

That made him stop short. Sam stood frozen as the elevator lurched to a halt and the doors slid open. Not the only kid? Would the demon actually use someone else, feed someone else his blood and force them to use the powers it gave them? For an instant, Sam wondered if it would be better that way. He instantly regretted the thought, hating himself for wishing that kind of pain on someone else.

The demon watched him with an amused smile, like he knew what was going on in Sam's head – which, Sam realised, he probably did.

"Why me, then?" he asked at last. The demon chuckled, wrapped an arm around his shoulders again and headed off down the corridor.

"Because you're strong, Sammy. I need a soldier, y'know, and all that training your daddy put ya through made you pretty tough."

Sam blinked at him, too wrapped up in his thoughts to protest at the arm around his shoulders. "A soldier?"

"Hell's army, Sammy-boy. It's gonna be big." The demon paused at a plain white door. He pulled it open and pushed Sam inside, making him stumble. "Now, stay put, _Sammy_. The grown-ups have some work to get done." With a feral grin, the demon slammed the door behind him and Sam heard a lock click. There was no door handle on this side, no way to get the door open, and there were no windows either. The room was just empty, with white walls and a hard, white floor.

Great. Once again, he was absolutely screwed.

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><p>When John came round, he was handcuffed to a pipe and locked inside a cage, Dean beside him in an identical position but still unconscious. His temple throbbed persistently, but the pain in his head was nothing compared to the panic that hit him when he realised Sam <em>wasn't here<em>. Dean was there, right beside him, but Sam wasn't.

Instantly he started to twist around, attempting to detach himself from the pipe (and, by extension, the wall). The clanking of the metal must have woken Dean up because the next thing he knew, John heard Dean's voice.

"Dad?"

John stopped trying to break free and turned to look at his son. "Dean," he said. "Dean, are you hurt?"

Jaw clenched, Dean shook his head. "What happened? Where's Sam?"

Dean sure had his priorities in order. "I dunno," John admitted. "I guess the demon knocked us out and locked us in here. There's no sign of Sam, though."

"Shit," muttered Dean, and John nodded his agreement. That pretty much covered it. "What do we do?"

John glanced at Dean, saw the fierce determination on his son's face and knew that if Sam had been hurt, there was going to be hell to pay. John would make sure of that, if Dean didn't get there first. "First, we break out of here. Then we find Sam. Check your pockets, see if you've got anything we can use to pick a lock." Following his own orders, John used his free hand to check his pockets. His jacket was gone, presumably taken along with his gun and the flask of holy water he kept tucked inside it.

His pockets were full of dust and loose change. Frustrated, John looked out around the cage. It was short, with a low ceiling that forced them to stay seated and about twelve feet across. The doors were held together with a huge, chunky chain, locked with a heavy padlock. Outside the cage, the room was plain and white, empty of any furniture with a door that also looked to be locked.

"Anything?" he asked Dean after a moment. Dean shook his head, obviously as frustrated as John.

"Dammit!" Dean shouted after a moment, pulling furiously at the handcuffs. "What the hell's going on?" he demanded. "What, they're just gonna leave us down here?"

John sighed, pulled again at the handcuffs. There was no give and the pipes looked firmly stuck to the wall. He couldn't even rip the pipes off to get himself free. "I guess. They'll come down soon enough," he said, hoping he was right. "Demons love to gloat." If there were even any more demons, that was. It could just be _the_ demon, and the thought made John's blood boil, the idea that they had been beaten by this one freaking demon...

No. Not beaten. They weren't done. They were gonna get out of here and then they would find Sam and kick some demon ass. They weren't Winchesters for nothing.

"You'd better be right about this," muttered Dean, but he didn't stop pulling at the handcuffs. His wrist looked red already from the force he'd exerted. John gritted his teeth and fell silent, waiting. He had to be right. Once someone came in here, they'd make their move and attack. In another situation, John would say they had to bide their time and wait till they knew what was going on, but not now. Not while Sam was in danger.

No. They would wait for someone, anyone to enter and then they would kick some serious ass. They weren't gonna go down without one hell of a fight.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This thing is killing me... this chapter was so hard to write! I'm really hoping it'll start to flow soon, cause right now I'm having a lot of trouble with this. Still, I hope you enjoy this chapter - let me know what you think!**

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><p>First stop, Michigan.<p>

He picked up young Ava outside her school. It would be a few hours before anyone noticed she was missing. Then he was off to see Andy and Ansem. Those kids were weird. Especially Ansem. That guy even creeped his parents out, anyone could see. Still, it wouldn't do to leave them behind. After that he headed over to Lily's, then off he went to pick up young Jake and Scott and that other kid... what was his name? Oh. Yeah. Max. Cheerful kid, that one.

Eight of them in total, Sam included. Eight psychic kids. Eight humans with demon blood. Eight potential soldiers.

Of course, there had been more, but a lot can happen in fourteen years. Car accidents. Teenage suicides. Drowning. All sorts of crap meant that Azazel only had eight psychic kids left now. He'd have to be careful about how he did this.

He was rooting for Sam, that went without saying, but that didn't mean he couldn't give the other kids a fighting chance – just enough to make the fight interesting, just enough to spark Sam's blood-lust so that he wanted to be Azazel's general. Forcing him into it wasn't enough. Sam had to _want_ it.

All of the kids were unconscious right now, shut off in different rooms. This would take a certain amount of finesse, finding the right combination of force and coercion to make the kids fight each other. Azazel gave a predatory grin as he set off towards Sam's room. Might as well start with a bang.

He unlocked the door with a flick of his wrist and strode into the room, the door slamming shut behind him. "Hey there, Sammy." The boy glared up at him from the floor, where he was sitting with his back against the wall. Azazel wondered how long Sam had looked before he realised there was no way out of this fix. He wouldn't be making the same mistakes he'd made last time.

"Aw, don't be like that, Sammy-boy. I brought you a little treat." His mouth curved into a smirk and Azazel watched the fear flicker briefly in Sam's eyes before they hardened again, fierce and determined.

"Go to hell."

"Y'know, Sammy, you're very violent these days," said Azazel with mock-concern. "And I've already been to Hell, remember? I'll be heading back soon enough, if ya wanna join me."

Sam's eyes widened minutely. He was getting better at that poker face, Azazel noted, but he was still fairly easy to read. He wore his heart on his sleeve. That might be a problem later on when Sam was his general, but for now it was just another advantage that Azazel held.

"What are you talking about?" asked Sam, a minute quiver in his voice.

Azazel chuckled. "I think it's time you learned the whole story, Sammy-boy." He leaned in close to the boy, crouched down at his eye level. "About what happened that night."

Sam swallowed visibly. Fear. Good. Fear was good. If Sammy was scared, he could manipulate him much more easily. Azazel grinned to himself. Taking the kids at this age had definitely been the right choice. They were so much more impressionable this way.

"What night?" asked Sam. Azazel shrugged – Sam probably already knew what he was talking about – and pressed a hand to Sam's forehead, focusing on projecting himself into Sam's mind. There was a brief whirl of black smoke and then both he and Sam were standing on a dark street somewhere in Lawrence, Kansas.

Sam landed roughly beside Azazel, a hand leaping to his head. It would twinge a bit, no doubt, but they were already inside Sam's mind so it couldn't be too bad. "Recognise this place, Sammy?" He looked down at Sam, who was glancing around in confusion. "Home sweet home," Azazel announced.

The boy's eyes widened in realisation. "This is the night you..." he cut himself off, jaw clenched and then spoke again through gritted teeth. "You son of a bitch."

"Manners, Sammy," chided Azazel lightly. "Shall we go on in?" And then they were inside, standing in front of Sammy-boy's crib as Azazel's past self leaned over the baby.

"What the hell?" breathed Sam. "What's going on?"

Mary slid up the wall, was pinned to the ceiling as past-Azazel cut his arm and let the blood drip into baby Sam's mouth.

"Demon blood," said Sam, and there was resignation in his tone as well as the surprise and anger he had expected. Azazel grinned at him. "All this time, I've had _demon blood_ in me?"

"You sure have," replied Azazel brightly. "What, you think you could have that kinda power without a little help?"

"I thought..." Sam trailed off, obviously remembering who he was talking to, but Azazel knew how he had been going to end that sentence.

"What, you thought the blood I gave you last time would do it?" He shook his head. "Uh uh, Sammy. This kind of thing takes a long time to build. That blood, right there?" He nodded his head at the blood that was dripping into the baby's mouth. "It's flowing through your veins, right now. There's no stopping it, no way to get rid of it. It's my little way of leaving a mark."

Sam had gone white and still, eyes wide. Knowing you had drank demon blood and discovering it had been in you since you were a baby were two very different situations, Azazel imagined. Not that it bothered him – the more freaked Sam was, the better.

"Not that you're the only one, of course," Azazel continued, as though he was oblivious to Sam's distress. "There are others who I paid a little visit to. Great kids, really." Past-Azazel finished what he was doing just as John came bursting into the room, shouting. He disappeared.

"Well, we know how this story ends," said Azazel. "Time to go, Sammy-boy." Everything went dark and then they were back in Sam's room, surrounded by white.

Sam still hadn't said a word, but he was glaring at Azazel – and boy, if looks could kill...

Good thing they couldn't. "So Sammy," Azazel said, enjoying himself now. "I've got big plans for you. But it's gonna take a lot of power, so we're gonna have to top you up."

He watched as Sam's eyes widened in realisation and then whipped a knife out, holding it over his arm and slicing the flesh in one quick motion.

Sam scooted up against the wall, trying to get away but they both knew there was no where to run. Azazel pinned him to the wall with his powers and dripped a tiny amount of blood into the boy's mouth. Still held fast, Sam watched with confusion. He had been expecting more blood, Azazel knew, but this was just enough to send him into a relapse.

"See ya later, Sammy," Azazel said, releasing Sam and striding towards the door. He stepped out, locked the door behind him and then allowed himself to laugh. By the end of today, Sammy would be _begging_ for blood.

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><p>It had been hours, and there had been no sign of anyone.<p>

"God dammit," snarled Dean, tugging at the chains again. His wrist was sore from all the tugging he'd been doing but Sam was in danger and they were just freaking _sitting here_.

"Dean," said John, a warning in his voice, but he sounded just as tense as Dean.

"There's gotta be something we can do, Dad!" Dean burst out, unable to stop himself even though he knew they were stuck here. "Sam could be hurt!"_ He could be dead_. Dean didn't voice that thought. If he didn't voice it, it wouldn't come true. The demon wouldn't kill Sam, would he? It needed him.

"He'll be fine, Dean," John said, his voice steady. "You need to stay calm. We need you focused for when one of those sons of bitches comes in here."

And that made sense. It did. Except... "_If _one of those sons of bitches comes in here," muttered Dean. John shot him a look but said nothing.

It was another half hour or so (with no way of telling, Dean was forced to guess) before anyone entered. By that point, Dean was stiff from staying in the same position, muscles aching and wrist throbbing from the constant attempts to escape.

Then, finally, the door swung open and a young woman with red hair and wearing a skirt suit stepped into the room. "Howdy, Winchesters," she greeted.

Dean glanced at John. The older man shook his head ever so slightly and Dean nodded, barely jerking his head. Not yet.

"Who are you?" John demanded.

The woman frowned, let her eyes shutter to black to confirm what they already knew – she was a demon. "What, you don't remember me? I'm hurt."

Dean frowned, trying to work out what the hell she was on about as the demon continued, "I mean, I got myself a new meatsuit, but still... how many demons d'you guys meet?"

And then it clicked.

"Meg," said Dean, trying and failing to keep the venom from his tone. She was the daughter of 'Azazel', who had saved Sam but not to help them. Because the demon needed him.

"There we go," said Meg, and the face of the woman she wore split into a smile. She had white, pearly teeth and probably would have been hot if there wasn't a demon inside her.

"Why are you here?" asked Dean before John had even opened his mouth.

Meg's smile widened and she stepped towards them, ducking down to their eye level so that the only thing separating them was a few bars. Dean tensed, ready should an opportunity present itself. "I'm here to talk," she said. "We need some information."

"What kind of information?" said John warily. Dean glanced at him, not surprised by the anger he saw in his father's eyes.

"About the Colt," Meg said briskly. "We know you were looking for it. You know where it is, and we want it."

Dean stared at her, confused. The Colt? It hadn't even occurred to him that they'd want that.

John sighed. "We don't have it."

"But you know where it is," Meg countered easily. "You were on your way to pick it up, and we'd like to go get it."

"We?" interrupted Dean. "How many of you are there?"

"Ah, well, that would be telling," said Meg. "Now, you wanna let me know where the Colt is? This leverage thing works both ways, y'know, and we_ do _have little Sammy."

"Don't you touch him, you bitch!" snarled Dean, pulling against the handcuffs. John shot him a look and Dean knew he should keep calm but man, he needed to see Sam. He needed proof that he was still... no. Not going down that road.

John glared at Meg, obviously furious and Dean knew that only one thing got him that mad – threatening his sons. Someone was going to die. On second thoughts, a lot of someones were going to die. As soon as they busted out of here.

"How do we know Sam's still alive?" John asked, finally. It was taking him obvious effort to control his voice.

"Well, you'll just have to take our word for it," Meg returned breezily. "Now, the Colt?"

"We don't know," said John, face stony. Dean nodded his agreement, glaring at Meg and trying hard not to think what they could be doing to Sam right now.

"Don't lie to me, John," Meg said, with a false lightness to her tone. "Sammy isn't the only one of your sons we have." She reached out and caressed Dean's cheek lightly. Dean glared at her and, throwing caution to the wind, lunged with his free hand, grabbing at anything he could to try and fight her. In the end, his restricted movement only allowed him to grab a fistful of red hair and Meg just laughed, patting his cheek.

But Dean had hit the jackpot. His fingers brushed against something cool and metal and, slowly, he pulled a hairpin free of Meg's hair. Then he pulled his hand away and slumped against the wall, glaring and pretending he'd been defeated.

"I'll give you some time to think about it, Johnny." Meg straightened and headed for the door. "I think I'll pay little Sammy a visit in the meantime."

Dean's stomach lurched as Meg left the room, shutting the door behind her. They had to move fast, if she was going after Sam. That bitch. Dean was gonna tear her apart with his bare hands if she went anywhere near Sam.

"What the hell was that, Dean?" John demanded. Dean didn't need to ask to know what John was referring to. The whole hair grabbing thing.

"I know, I know, it was stupid," Dean admitted. "But look." He held up the hairpin, let it glint in the dim light. A slow smile spread across John's face and Dean got to work on the handcuffs.

They'd be out of here in no time.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! :) This chapter came a little more easily. I hope you enjoy it - let me know!**

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><p>For locks that had been put on by demons, they came open pretty damn easily. Dean grinned to himself as his dad's handcuffs clicked open and got to work on the main padlock. They would be out of here soon and then they could go looking for Sam. About freaking time, too. Dean felt weird without Sam, off-kilter. He needed to know his brother was safe.<p>

"Something doesn't seem right about this," John said, dark eyes watching as Dean worked on the lock. Feeling the pressure of his dad's gaze, Dean started to move faster, focused entirely on the padlock. It took a moment for John's statement to register.

"Yeah?" He wiggled the hairpin around a little. _C'mon, c'mon..._ "What d'you mean?"

"I dunno," John admitted. "All this just feels... too easy."

Dean glanced over his shoulder briefly. "Guess we just got lucky." He turned his attention back to the lock, frowning in concentration.

"Guess so," agreed John. "Just be on your guard, alright? We can't have you getting caught too." Dean nodded tightly, not liking what John was implying. Sam hadn't been _caught_. He had been the one to warn them about the freaking demons. This wasn't anyone's fault... well, it wasn't their fault, anyway. The demon was a different matter.

Finally, after wasting seconds that Sam could be spending in trouble, Dean managed to open the lock. There was a dull clunk as the padlock hit the ground and John moved forward to help Dean ease the heavy cage door open.

The hinges screeched and both Dean and John froze, waiting to see if anyone had heard it. Nobody came running and Dean breathed a sigh of relief, crawling out of the cage and then standing up. If anything, John looked even more uneasy, but he covered it well and soon they were both standing in front of the door, trying to work out how to pass this next obstacle.

"No freakin' handle," Dean snapped. "Who the hell doesn't put a handle on a door? Or a _lock_?"

"Demons," John replied tightly, examining the door.

"Okay, so, what? We just break it down?" Dean asked, not liking that idea at all.

John shook his head. "They'll hear it."

Dean knew that, he did, but still. "Yeah, well, I'm not seeing a helluva lot of choice, here."

Not answering, John stepped forward and placed both hands on the door, palms pressed against the wood. He frowned and stayed silent, moving his hands around the edges of the door slowly. Dean raised his eyebrows and watched for a few seconds. "Dad?" he prompted.

"Gimme a second," John said, not looking away from what he was doing. Eventually, he stepped back. "Damn thing's sealed shut. We're gonna have to break it down."

Dean frowned. "What if they hear it?"

"Then we deal with it, Dean!" John shot back, his voice rising slightly. He was stressed, it was obvious, and seeing his dad like this made Dean uneasy. He nodded in reply, jaw clenched.

John exhaled heavily. "Alright. Let's do this." He stepped back, standing shoulder to shoulder with Dean, and together they slammed into the door, over and over. They made short work of it. There was a splintering crack and before they knew it, John and Dean were stepping cautiously through the doorframe. Dean's fingers twitched, his hands feeling weird and empty without a weapon. He didn't like this feeling of vulnerability.

They were standing in a dim corridor with white walls and no windows. Dammit, was there any way out of this place? Dean glanced down the corridor each way. It was lined with doors and distinctly lacking in demons. He cast John a sidelong glance. "Which way?"

John's brow was creased in concentration. "Left," he said at last, and they set off silently down the corridor, testing each door as they passed it. None of them opened and Dean listened for any noise on the other side. Nothing. There wasn't enough time to break them all down, though. They just had to hope Sam hadn't been knocked out or worse.

"Y'know," said Dean in a low voice, "We'd cover a lot more ground if we split up." Even as he said it he knew it was a stupid idea, but they _had to find Sam_. Now that he was free, he felt the loss of Sam more acutely and he needed to know that his geeky little brother was okay, that the demon hadn't hurt him. Even if it hadn't, that thing was gonna die.

John looked briefly over his shoulder at Dean but didn't stop walking. "Not an option, Dean. We stick together." Dean nodded. It had been a stupid idea, but he had a lot of stupid ideas when Sam was in danger – anything to get him back. He couldn't afford any stupid mistakes now, though. Every move had to be perfect. Alright, so they weren't off to a great start, but they'd find Sam soon.

He was sure of it.

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><p>Max Miller was not having a good day.<p>

He'd had detention, been late home from school, gained himself a bunch of extra fist-shaped bruises and now, to top it all off, he'd been freaking kidnapped. He hadn't even seen the guy's face, didn't know why he'd taken Max of all people, but it figured that Max wouldn't have been able to defend himself.

Because he was weak. That was all he was. Weak. Just for once, he wished he could be strong, strong enough to stand up for himself. Maybe then his dad would stop hating him. And if he didn't, well, Max wouldn't care. He _wouldn't_. He'd be strong. Strong enough to not need him.

All he needed was a chance.

And then a chance came strolling through the door.

Max was sitting in a plain room on a small metal bed with a thin mattress, like whoever had taken him was intending for him to stay. Wiping away the tears that were still streaming down his face, trying desperately to control the panic fluttering inside him, Max looked up at his kidnapper.

He was an average man, sandy-haired with tanned skin and... and yellow eyes. Great. He'd been kidnapped by some freaking psycho wearing dodgy contacts. Trust his fucked-up luck. The man beamed at him like he hadn't just pulled Max out of his bedroom window. Max frowned, suddenly realising he had no idea how he'd ended up here. Had he hit his head?

"Howdy, Max." Pulled out of his thoughts, Max just stared open-mouthed at the man in front of him.

Finally, when he found himself able to form words, he asked, "Who the hell are you?" and if his voice shook in the middle well he'd just been freaking _kidnapped_, he was entitled to be freaking the hell out, thank you very much.

"Me?" The man raised his eyebrows, gesturing towards himself with one hand. "I'm your saving grace, kid. Your own personal happy little helper."

Great. This guy was obviously insane. Wondering if there was anything he could say to talk the guy out of his craziness, Max spoke cautiously. "Uh." There was a pause. "Okay, then."

The man rolled his yellow eyes. "I'm not crazy, kid." Then he paused, seeming to reconsider that, and smirked. "Well, maybe a little. The point is, I can help you."

"Help me?" Max repeated against his better judgement. "Help me with what?"

"That daddy of yours?" the man asked, the smirk still on his face. "Your uncle?"

Max flinched instinctively, feeling very cold all of a sudden. How did he know about them? Had he been following him? Clenching his fists to control the shaking that came with any mention of his dad and uncle, Max glared at the man. "I don't know what you're talking about. You're crazy!" he gritted out through clenched teeth that were holding back the sobs because yeah, he was _seriously_ freaked by this point. Terrified. What the hell was going on?

"Uh huh." The man drew the words out. "Well, you just think about it. I can help you. You could be stronger than either of them. With my help, you wouldn't need either of them. The constant fear, the _pain_, it could all be over." He stepped back, turning towards the door. "You think about that, Max."

Max stared as the man walked away. He had always wanted to be strong. This guy was offering that. He... he wouldn't be hurting anyone, just learning to survive. He should at least hear the man out. "Wait!"

The man froze and turned around, slowly. "Yeah?" Max had the uncomfortable feeling of a cornered animal. It was a feeling he knew well.

"What... what d'you mean, help?"

"You're special, Max," the man replied, grinning. "Believe me, I know. I know a way for you to hone your strengths. You could be a champion."

Frowning at the strange word choice, Max nodded slowly. "I wouldn't have to – hurt anyone, right?" He didn't want to hurt people. He didn't want to be like his dad, even if sometimes – most of the time – he did want to hurt his dad, hurt him worse than he'd ever hurt Max.

"You wouldn't _have_ to," agreed the man slowly. "But you could, if you wanted to."

Max nodded cautiously. "Okay," he said, pretty sure he was about to make a big mistake but unable to stop himself because he wanted to be brave and strong and not in pain every second of the day (_was that so bad?_). "What do I have to do?"

The grin widened. "Oh Max, kiddo, I knew you'd come around." Then there was a weird-looking vial in the man's hand, filled with red liquid. Max blinked, trying to work out where it had come from so suddenly, and the next thing he knew the man was right in front of him, waving the glass tube in Max's face. "Drink up." He dropped the tube and Max reflexively reached out to catch it.

Warily, he held it up to the light. "What is it?"

The man shrugged. "Just something to give you a little boost. Drink it," he said, "I've gotta get going. Places to be, people to see, ya know how it is." Max didn't know how it was at all, but he nodded numbly and opened the tube.

It looked like blood, but it couldn't be. It was probably some weird mix of steroids or something. He was just gonna be strong, that was all. It wasn't gonna hurt him.

"Drink," said the man again, and there was an edge of danger to his voice that said Max wouldn't like what happened if he said no. Max was good at recognising that tone and he raised the tube with shaking hands, downing the liquid before he could think anything else.

The man nodded, obviously pleased. "Nice," he declared. "I'll see ya around, Max," he said, as if Max could go anywhere, and then he was out of the door. Max never did see how he managed to open it without a handle.

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><p>Sam was really, truly screwed.<p>

He was so completely screwed that they should just invent a whole new level of screwed and then name it after him.

Demon blood. _Again_. He'd let the demon get the freaking drop on him again. He could feel it buzzing through his veins, already making its presence known, thrumming just beneath his skin like fear and fight and power all in one and he hated it.

And then there were the things he'd learned from the demon. Demons lied, he knew that, but sometimes they told the truth. Just to screw with you. Sam reckoned this was one of those times. He'd been forced to watch the demon kill his mother as Sam was fed demon blood. He'd had this stuff in him since he was a baby. Sam felt a sudden wave of panic. What if he'd started having visions before, because of the blood, even before he met the demon? Was that why he got so many nightmares? Had he been a freak all along? His thoughts came in choked-off trails of fear and confusion and Sam couldn't make sense of any of it, couldn't wrap his head around it.

Of course, none of it mattered now. Sam was right back where he'd been a month ago, only better guarded most likely. The demon wouldn't let him go so easily this time. Resisting the childish urge to cry – it wouldn't solve anything– he forced himself to stand and inspect the room again, just to confirm what he already knew.

There was no way out.

Sam wondered yet again what the demon wanted from him. To be a soldier? It made no sense. A demon as powerful as this one must have had the whole of Hell at his command. Why would it want a human? More than one human, from the sounds of it. The demon had said he wasn't the only one, that there were other kids he could use. Had other kids had their mothers killed in the same way, been fed demon blood? Sam's mouth felt dry at the thought of anyone going through the same hell his family had been through.

He forced the thoughts away. As much as he liked to think about these things, get every angle and then move forward, there wasn't time. He had to work out a way to escape before the demon came back. He wasn't going to drink any more blood. He couldn't, felt sick at the very thought of it.

Then the door swung open. Sam stared as a pretty blonde woman with glossy lips, jeans and a tight shirt strolled into the room. "Who the hell are you?" he blurted, instantly on guard as if there was anything he could do to defend himself.

The woman smiled at him, wide and genuine. "Hi," she said. "I'm Ruby."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you for the lovely response last chapter :) I'm not really happy with this chapter, but I wanted to post something. Let me know what you think!**

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><p>Sam stared at the woman for a long moment. Ruby. Great. That told him nothing, and without any way of testing he had no idea if she was safe or not, demon or human. "Uh," he said eventually. "Hi."<p>

Ruby's smile only widened, as if she had been expecting this response and was delighted by it. "Hi," she said again. Then she glanced around the room, completely at ease with her hands in her pockets. "So, you planning on staying here or d'you feel like actually getting out?"

Wait, what?

Sam watched the woman warily, taking a step closer. She was standing a few feet away from the door in such a way that Sam would have to pass her to get out. It could be a trap. And yet... Sam looked over her shoulder at the door and the freedom that it offered. He had to find his family and make sure they were okay.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked instead of walking past, cursing himself the second he spoke. He wasn't looking the gift horse in the mouth now, he was punching it in the freaking teeth. Now was his chance to get out of here.

As he started towards the door, Ruby spoke. "Why wouldn't I? It's us against them, isn't it? Demons, I mean."

"You're a hunter?" Sam asked carefully, sidestepping towards the door so he didn't have to take his eyes off of her.

"Something like that," she agreed easily. "Been hearing about demonic signs for weeks now, I figured something big was going down. Come on, we need to get out of here."

She seemed remarkably at ease for someone with demons on her tail, but Sam had wasted enough time questioning her. He nodded firmly and Ruby turned to lead the way out of the room, Sam right on her heels. Ruby glanced down the corridor and then set off, quickly rounding a corner.

Then there was a hand on Sam's shoulder, too strong to be human.

Ah. Crap.

"Hey, Sammy," said a female voice, pleasantly. "What ya doing out here, huh?" Two strong hands gripped his arms and dragged him back to the room, even as Sam struggled, heart slamming against his chest. _No!_ He was so close. He kicked out wildly, tactics giving way for instinct, but soon enough he was back inside the room.

The last thing he saw before the door closed was Ruby, looking around the corner with fear in her eyes.

And then he turned to face whoever had grabbed him this time, trying to blink back tears of frustration. He had been out, free to find his family. If only he'd been just a little faster, hadn't asked so many questions...

He was looking at a young woman with red hair and smart clothes. She was smiling at him, predator-like.

"Wha- who are you?" he asked, the words sticking in his throat as he tried to calm himself down. The demon blood fizzed inside him like acid, a sharp reminder of all that had happened, and his heart wouldn't stop pounding.

It was happening again. His tongue felt dry, his stomach like an empty cave. It was all happening again.

"I'm Meg, of course," said the woman in mock-surprise. "You don't remember me?"

"Meg?" Sam repeated. "As in-?"

"As in the Meg that saved your ass, yeah," she finished. "Good to see ya again."

Sam swallowed. It didn't help the dry, sandpapery feeling in his mouth. "Yeah," he said. "Not so much."

"Charming," huffed Meg, but she didn't look offended, only amused and that was worse. Amused demons were never a good thing. "Don't you wanna know what you're doing here?"

It was hard to focus. The edges of his mind were slowly clouding over, thoughts overshadowed by senses. The blood was inside him and it was too much and not enough all at the same time, he needed _morelessmore_.

Meg snorted like she knew what he was thinking. "Hittin' you already, huh?" She headed for the door. "Well, I'll tell Dean and your daddy you said hi."

Dean? Dad?

His mind felt suddenly clearer just with the presence of those two words. His family were still alive, then. "Stop," he called out. "What's going on?"

Meg just smiled at him. "This ain't my game, Sammy. Gonna have to ask Daddy about that one."

"What do you know?" snapped Sam. "Where are my family?" The need for Dean was even greater than his need for blood, which was growing with every second.

"Nowhere you'll find them," Meg retorted. "Laters, Sammy." And then she was gone before Sam could say another word, leaving him with silence and an empty feeling and a head full of spinning thoughts.

This was all too much. Ruby, Meg, the demon, the blood, his family... he couldn't take it. He was just one person. It wasn't fair. He never wanted this.

And then the craving started in earnest, and Sam remembered that life wasn't fair. Life was never fair, especially for Winchesters. He sank down to the ground and tried hard not to cry, tried to think of anything other than the way his heart was racing and he was shaking already and how his stomach felt like it was trying to turn itself inside out because he _needed the blood_.

It wasn't fair, but nothing ever was.

* * *

><p>Fucking Ruby. How the hell had she got in here? This place was supposed to be guarded. Dad wasn't gonna be happy.<p>

Meg headed off in the direction she had seen Ruby go, determined to feel the snap of the other demon's bones beneath her hands. Her dad's plan was a good one. It would bring destruction like none before it, make Hell powerful again. Ruby was trying to interfere. What the hell was she up to?

Snarling to herself, Meg turned her full attention to finding the other demon. That bitch. Who did she think she was? Rage clouded her vision and Meg turned, slamming her fist into the wall. There was no pain, only a satisfying dent left in the plaster. Then she forced herself to calm down. She couldn't anyone see her as anything less than the cool, confident demon that she was. Azazel had taught her well, after all.

A smirk spreading across her lips, she set back off down the hallway, towards the elevator. Ruby had no friends here. She would be looking to make a quick exit, wouldn't she? Besides, Meg had to ask the idiots up on the ground floor a couple of questions. Someone was going to pay for letting another demon past their defences, and it wasn't gonna be Meg.

There was no sign of Ruby upstairs, only a couple of low-level demons lounging around on the office furniture. They snapped upright when Meg stepped out of the elevator, pretending like they'd been acting vigilant the entire time. Meg rolled her eyes and took several steps forward, every movement a careful deliberation to set the others on edge.

"So," she said, glancing around. "Someone wanna tell me how the _hell _Ruby got in here?" There were four demons sitting in the office. None of them looked inclined to tell her.

"Well..." She took another step, looking at each of them in turn, forcing them to look at the anger in her eyes. "...Someone let her in. Didn't they?"

The demons didn't look at each other. They wouldn't have each other's backs on this. Demons were petty, dishonest creatures, only out for themselves. Meg could admit that much, was proud of that much. But that meant one of these demons would turn over the traitor to keep themselves from the torture that Meg was so skilled at.

"Well?" she said again, soft and threatening. "What. Happened?"

"Nothing," a demon wearing a short, fat man in a suit (probably the manager of this crapshack) insisted. "We... no one got in this way." For the first time, he looked to the others for assurance. Hurriedly, the three demons nodded.

"Is that so?" Meg asked. They nodded again and Meg hesitated. Maybe they were telling the truth. Demons did that sometimes – and she was speaking from experience here. Slowly, she nodded. Then she left, but not before she broke a couple of bones. Just for fun.

* * *

><p>"Dammit," hissed Dean. "Where the hell is he?"<p>

John huffed out a sigh just like he had when Dean asked the last three times. "We'll find him, Dean." He sighed again. "Dammit, I need a weapon." His fingers twitched, clenching into loose fists. Dean knew how he felt.

"We can't leave without Sam," he said, stating the obvious.

Well, he thought it was the obvious. John was hesitant, though. "We need a plan, Dean. We need weapons and backup and... fuck. We need to be ready."

"You're kidding," muttered Dean, laughing a soft, humourless laugh. "You're kidding, right? Tell me you didn't just say that." He turned to stare at John, full on. "We are not leaving without Sam." Their fucking dad. Jesus. Dean couldn't believe the crap that came out of John's mouth sometimes. They didn't need weapons and backup, they needed _Sam_.

"I'm not saying we leave him here, Dean. Jesus," snapped John. "But we gotta do this right. We need the Colt, for a start."

This was really freaking crappy, but it was the goddamn truth however much Dean hated it because they had to make sure they were ready when they rescued Sam, they had to make sure they didn't get caught again. "What if..." Dean trailed off, glancing down the corridor towards the elevator they were nearing, towards freedom. "What if they've hurt him?"

"They won't hurt him," said John confidently. "They need him." And damn, how could John be so freaking zen about this when Dean was freaking the hell out at the idea of leaving their kid, _his_ kid on his own in a building full of demons? But there was a glint in John's eyes that might have been tears or might have been anger, Dean didn't know, and suddenly they were moving towards the elevator, probably away from Sam.

They surveyed the area, but there was no one around. It was eerily quiet and Dean hunched his shoulders, strode into the elevator and tried not to think about the scrawny, floppy haired kid they were leaving behind. He freaking hated this. "What if they move him?" he asked suddenly, turning to face John with horror as the thought hit him. The idea of them taking Sam away, moving him where they couldn't find him... No. No. Not happening.

"Then we'll find him." John's voice might have been steady, but it wasn't steady enough, dammit, this was Sam they were talking about. "We'll get him back Dean, and then we'll kill that sonuvabitch, I swear."

Dean nodded, unconvinced, and went to press the button to take them to the ground floor. John grabbed his wrist, stopping him. "They'll be guarding the exit, most likely." And then he pressed the button for the top floor and Dean stared at him because, well, call him crazy but he was kind of hoping to leave the building.

"We'll take the fire escape," said John, an answer to Dean's unspoken question. So Dean nodded again, heart hammering and muscles tensed, ready for a fight in case they were jumped as they left the elevator. John had been right, this did feel too easy.

Not easy enough to get Sam back, but still pretty damn easy.

They stepped out on the top floor and John instantly headed for the steps that led to the roof. Yeah. Sure. Going further up, what a great plan. But Dean could hear muffled screams a few floors down and the confirmation of more demons both urged him onwards and made him want to stay. It wasn't Sam screaming, he could tell that much. But it could easily have been.

John didn't give him much choice, though, grabbing his sleeve and giving him a little tug and soon they were stepping out onto the roof, the fresh air cool on their faces. They didn't stop to appreciate it, though, heading straight for the fire escape. It was a weird ladder-stairs thing that didn't look a hell of a lot of fun, but it was this or nothing so Dean said nothing as he climbed down, John following him. His muscles ached with the exertion after being crammed into that cage but he kept going, not looking down, not looking up, just staring at the dirty brick wall in front of him and trying not to think about what could be happening to Sam right now.

They dropped to the next level (_level_, like this was a freaking game of some sort, ha) and shifted over onto the second ladder, then the third and soon Dean was dropping to the ground, landing cat-like, ready for anything. Except nothing came, so he stepped aside and John landed next to him, grunting.

John turned around to stare up at the building. It was a huge, ugly-ass office block with grubby walls and crumbly bricks. Only Sam was in there somewhere. Dean swallowed, fighting down the urge to run back in their and tear every single demon apart with his bare hands for daring to go anywhere near his brother. It came as a surprise when John finally spoke, his voice softer than it had any right to be. "We'll be back. Sammy," he murmured.

Yeah. John did not say sappy crap like that. Not a good sign. Still, Dean clenched his jaw and nodded because yeah, they would be back. They would be back with one hell of a vengeance.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Another tough chapter. I hope you like it, though - let me know :)**

* * *

><p>So far, so good.<p>

He'd taken care of Sam, Max and Jake. Jake had been surprisingly easy to convince for someone with such a fierce spirit – it all came down to control, though, and Jake liked to be in control. Azazel knew that, could admire that. Should Sam fail, Jake would make a damn good general too.

Ava was... well, she was crying. He didn't like children, and crying ones were even worse. What was he supposed to do with a crying girl?

He probably should have seen it coming, what with the whole kidnapping thing. She probably thought he was crazy. Azazel stood, watching the girl for a few moments. They were inside her room, Azazel standing just in front of the door and Ava curled up against the far wall, sobbing.

"Who the hell are you?" demanded Ava. At least, that's what he thought she said. From the way she was sobbing, it was just as likely to have been _whothughwellarghjoo. _Emotions were tricky things.

"I'm-"

"-and what am I doing here?" Ava continued, more coherently this time. "Y'know, you can't just go, like, snatching people up from outside schools! It's totally not okay." She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand, sniffed once and visibly strengthened her resolve. Azazel watched the display, pleased with the way she could change between personas so easily.

"That's an excellent point, Ava," he said smoothly, quickly developing his plans to deal with crying girls with a weird inner strength. "You're a smart girl."

Ava looked at him through eyes that still shone with unshed tears. "Dude," she said. "Could you _be_ more creepy?"

"Probably," Azazel said offhandedly. "Now listen, Ava, because I've got a proposal for ya." He grinned at her, certain that everything was going according to plan. "You wanna get out of here, right?"

"Obviously," Ava snapped, her gaze drifting behind him as if she was wondering whether or not to make a break for it.

"Well" – Azazel held up a vial just like the one he'd given Max, demon blood sloshing around inside it – "today's your lucky day."

Ava stared at him like he was crazy. "Dude," she said again (wow, fourteen year old girls were annoying). "You just kidnapped me and now, what, you're gonna let me go again? What the hell is that stuff?"

"Liquid strength," declared Azazel impressively, flashing her a hopefully-convincing smile. She'd be wrapped around his little finger in no time.

Ava backed up impossibly closer to the wall. "I'm not letting you _drug_ me," she said. "You're crazy. You're trying to poison me, is that it?"

Azazel rolled his eyes, more for show than anything else. He had all the time in the world to convince her, but he had to make it look like a one-time offer. "There are easier ways to drug and kill you," he drawled. "Trust me, I'm trying to help you out here."

"Y'know how to help people out? Try not kidnapping them!" Ava's voice had taken on a slightly hysterical note by this point, eyes wide with something like fear.

"Good advice," replied Azazel flatly, taking a step towards her. "You know what, though, Ava?" Another step. "You're different." Another step. "You've always known that, haven't you?" Another step, until he was just a foot away from Ava. He crouched down to her eye level and she shrank even further away. "I'm trying to help you, here."

"You're crazy," said Ava again, and her voice shook.

Azazel shrugged. "Maybe so. But this stuff, here?" He waved the vial of blood at her. "It's not dangerous."

"Prove it."

Another shrug. "Sure thing." Azazel opened the vial and took a short swig. Drinking his own blood wasn't exactly pleasant but hey, Ava was proving a much tougher nut to crack than Max and Jake. If drinking his blood was what it took, he could deal with that.

"See?" He waved a hand in Ava's face. "Not dead."

Ava regarded him suspiciously. "It could take, like, hours for the effects to show."

"It doesn't," snapped Azazel.

The suspicious expression didn't leave her face. "What's it do, then?"

"This." And he flung his hand out, forcing Ava to her feet and pinning her against the wall without ever touching her. He stepped back and watched Ava struggle like a fly stuck to flypaper. "You see what I could do to you, Ava? I could do anything to you, _anything,_ and there'd be nothing you could do about it. Not a thing." He grinned, this time aiming for the sleaziest expression he could manage. Eyes wide with fear, Ava didn't reply. Not that she could, seeing as Azazel had frozen her vocal chords, but still.

"But I'm not gonna. You know why?" He flicked his hand and Ava dropped, just managing to land on her feet. "Because I like you, Ava. I think you're strong. You could be so much more than this." When he flicked his hand again, her vocal chords were unfrozen.

Her eyes welled with tears. Shock, fear, panic, whatever she was feeling, it could work to Azazel's advantage. "I... what the hell? What_ was_ that?" Her hands wrapped around her neck, like she was trying to work out where her voice had come from.

"That was power, Ava." He almost had her, he could feel it. "You wanna be powerful too?" He produced another vial from his pocket, this one full. "All ya gotta do is drink this."

Ava blinked, and a few tears rolled down her cheeks. No more than that, though. Ava had good control of herself already. Then something flickered behind her eyes and her expression hardened. "Gimme that." She snatched the vial from his hand and then before she could change her mind she had swallowed all of the blood.

"I knew you'd see sense." Azazel smiled at her, cat-like. This was good. He only hoped the others wouldn't be as tough as Ava. She had the makings of a good fighter, though, even if she wouldn't be so good at following orders. Still smiling to himself, Azazel left the room, locking the door behind him.

These kids were turning out to be tougher than he'd thought.

* * *

><p>He was going crazy he needed blood he needed it this wasn't good this was so bad he needed Dean where was Dean what was he gonna do help someone had to help him and oh-<p>

- he should probably calm down. Sam drew in a huge breath, tilting his head back. His heart was pounding all over the place and Sam wasn't sure it was even in the right place any more and he needed more blood, more, he didn't have enough, he _needed it_.

Sam shouldn't be wanting this, should he? This wasn't right. This was very not right. No. He shouldn't have any more blood. He needed to get out of here. That sounded like a good idea. Shaking a little, he hauled himself to his feet. The world swayed for a moment before it righted itself. He needed blood. That was important.

Wait, no. He had to get out of here. That was more important. Right. He had the blood in him, the familiar tang of power humming through his veins. It was time to put it to use.

Sam held out a quivering hand towards the door and focused. He had to get that door open. He needed to get out of here. He had to. Screwing his eyes shut, he thought only of opening the door. He pictured it swinging open, revealing the path to freedom.

It didn't open. Slowly, blood began to trickle from Sam's nose. Sniffing, he ignored it. This needed doing.

Refusing to giving up, ignoring the pang of desperation that told him he needed more blood, he directed all of his thoughts and energy towards getting out._ Open, open, c'mon, _please_.._.

There was a click.

Sam stood frozen, hardly daring to believe his luck. Was the demon back? Maybe it was Ruby. Surely he hadn't actually managed to open the thing. The demon wouldn't have made it possible for him to escape again.

He had to leave, though. He needed blood.

No. Wait. That wasn't right.

He needed his family. Okay, get out of the room, find Dean and Dad. He could handle that. Darting towards the door, Sam stuck his fingers into the cracks where the door opened (jeez, this thing really needed a handle) and wiggled it open. There was an empty hallway outside.

Right, okay. Blood. No, family. Definitely family. Except which way did he go? There was no way of knowing where his family were... maybe if he could get some more blood, he'd have enough strength to find them. He could squeeze the information out of the demon if he had enough blood in him – he'd exorcised the damn thing before, after all.

Stepping out into the hallway, Sam made his choice. He glanced down the hallway each way. On one side there were three white doors before the hallway turned a corner. On the other side, exactly the same. There was no way he could work out which way to go, so he went right.

He tested every door on the way. They were all locked, and he didn't want to call out for fear of being heard. Was that a good idea? Maybe. He wasn't sure. His mind felt all cloudy and everything kept drifting back to the blood. He could hear it rushing in his ears.

This was ridiculous. He was stronger than this. It was a tiny bit of blood, nothing to get worked up about. Dean wouldn't let it stop him.

Sam tried the next door. It was locked, but as he was about to move on he heard a noise behind it. It sounded almost like someone crying, those little whimpery sobs that happened when you just couldn't stop. Sam froze. This wasn't a good idea. Why would someone else be in there? Sam was the one the demon wanted. He should leave before someone found him.

_You're not the only kid I could use._ The words hit him just as they had the first time and Sam, even with his foggy mind, easily connected the dots. There was another kid in there, a girl by the sounds of it. He had to get them out. Sam ducked down to inspect the lock. It was pretty standard issue and Sam could have easily picked it if he'd had anything to use.

As it was, well... It looked like it was time for another nosebleed.

Sam stepped back and held his hand out like he had moments ago in his own little prison. It was easier the second time, like he already knew how to do it. Blood dripped steadily from Sam's nose, and he swiped at it with his arm as he opened the door. His head throbbed with every tiny movement.

Inside the room was a brown haired girl. She had obviously been crying, and she stood up when Sam entered the room. "Who the hell are you?"

Sam looked at her. Who the hell was he? What about her? This wasn't right. Surely the demon had only been planning to use the other kids if he didn't work out. Why was this girl here too? "I'm Sam," he said cautiously. "What about you?"

The girl sniffed. "I'm- I'm Ava. What's going on?"

"Long story, Ava," said Sam grimly. "Come on, we need to get out of here. Are you hurt?"

Ava shook her head and let Sam pull her to her feet. "How did you open the door?"

"I'm good with locks. Let's go. Did you see which way you came from?" Sam glanced up and down the hall. They had to get out of here. It wasn't just him in danger any more, it was Ava who had nothing to do with anything supernatural. The thought focused his mind.

"Um... I think that way, maybe." Ava pointed to the right, hand shaking. "Dude, what the _hell_?" Her voice squeaked on the final word. "What are we doing here? One minute I was j-just at school and what, now some psycho's _kidnapped_ us?"

Sam glanced at her as he started walking down the hall. "You've met him, then?"

"Y-yeah." Ava's lip wobbled. "He's insane."

"Tell me about it." Their steps echoed in the hall. Too loud. Surely someone was going to hear them. "So what did he say to you?" They needed to know what the demon wanted. It wasn't just Sam any more, apparently, which was just great. Now there were more people involved, higher stakes and higher risk. It would be really great to have Dean here right about now.

"Nothing!" Ava squeaked. "I asked him what he wanted and he just _looked at me_ and then he left. I mean seriously, what the hell?" Her breaths were coming in quick, sharp gasps.

Sam frowned. "He didn't say anything?" Ava shook her head and Sam sighed. "Awesome."

There was definitely something wrong here, and they needed to find out what. Preferably before the demon found them.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I just barely got this one finished in time. I hope you enjoy it anyway, let me know!**

* * *

><p>Whatever that guy had given him, it sure was strong. Jake could feel it buzzing through his veins, almost like it was excited to be there. His mind felt sharper already and his muscles twitched, desperate for motion. He couldn't just stay here. If this stuff was gonna make him stronger, he had to take advantage of it. That guy wanted him to stay here? That was his problem.<p>

Maybe Jake had made a mistake taking the stuff, maybe he hadn't, but the point was that he had done it now and he might as well take advantage of it. Without really knowing what he was doing, he flung himself at the door, slamming into it with his shoulder. It splintered instantly, breaking clean in half as the hinges were wrenched from the wall.

Jake stared at it for a long moment. He was a skinny kid. Good at sports, yeah, but still skinny. Not the strongest, like he'd always wanted to be. There was no way he could have done that. Jake swallowed hard, heart in his throat. Then he grinned and rushed towards the door, scrambling out through the opening only to bump into something – some_one_ – else.

Panicked, Jake froze, staring at whoever he had bumped into. The boy, with pale skin and brown hair, stared back at him like a rabbit caught in the headlights. There was a girl standing behind him with a frightened expression and eyes that looked as thought she'd been crying. They both looked about his age and for a moment, all three of them stood still, waiting for someone else to make the next move.

Finally, the boy spoke, cautiously. "Who are you?"

Jake looked back at him, equally wary. "I'm Jake. You?"

"Sam." There was a pause. Jake looked at the girl expectantly.

"Oh!" It seemed to dawn on her that he was waiting. "I'm Ava." Her expression, the scared little-girl-lost look, didn't change. It didn't suit her.

"Not that it's not great to meet you guys," Jake said slowly, trying to piece together what the hell was happening right now. "But what the hell is going on?"

Sam gave a wry smile. "That's kind of a long story."

"We got time," said Jake, glancing up and down the plain corridor. There was nobody else around.

"No, we haven't," Sam replied. "We really haven't. Come on, we should go." He glanced between the other two, like he wasn't used to giving orders and wanted to check with them. Jake clenched his jaw and nodded. He wanted to know what was going on, sure, but he wanted to get out of here even more. He was terrified, had almost broken down back in that room, but now that he was doing something he could pretend the fear wasn't there. It was kind of exhilarating.

They set off down the corridor, Sam leading the way. Ava fell into step beside Jake, looking at him with undisguised curiosity. "Did you meet him?" she asked. "The man?"

She could have been talking about anyone, of course, but Jake knew who she meant. The man who had brought them here, for whatever reason. Wanting to help them had been the bullshit excuse he'd given Jake before he pulled out that weird drug. It had made him damn strong, though. Probably steroids or something.

"Yeah," he said. "I met him."

Ava nodded silently. "We did, too," she told him. "He's crazy, right? What does he even, like, want us for?" Her eyes welled with tears. Jake hoped she didn't cry. He wasn't good at comforting crying people.

"That's what I'd like to find out," said he said instead, grimly.

"I'd rather just get out of here," Sam cut in, glancing over his shoulder at them. They paused at the next corner, Sam peering cautiously around it before he nodded at them, signalling the coast was clear.

Sam was suspicious. He wasn't freaking out, like Ava or Jake – admittedly, Jake was only freaking out in his head, but Jake was good at hiding his emotions. But Sam... Sam seemed to know something. He had a kind of quiet confidence about him, even if he didn't seem entirely comfortable with leading the way. Jake made a mental note to keep an eye on him.

"D'you remember how you got in here?" Sam asked, quietly, as though he had just remembered they might have company around here.

Jake shrugged, trying to recall what had happened to him over the past few hours. He could remember being outside, kicking a football around in the garden, but after that all he could see was himself waking up in that weird, white room. Then the yellow eyed man had walked in. "Not really," he said.

Sam nodded. "What about the man? He say anything to you?"

Jake hesitated, unsure if he should say anything about the weird red stuff he'd been given. He wasn't exactly proud about what he'd done – whatever the effects had been – and telling these random strangers? That didn't sit right with him.

Then again, maybe it had happened to both of them too. They had to have broken free somehow, right? "He, uh, he said something about 'wanting to help me'," Jake said after a moment. Sam frowned.

"Yeah?"

Jake nodded. "Yeah."

Sam and Ava were silent. Jake looked straight ahead, ignoring the doors that they were walking past. "What about you guys?"

Ava shrugged. "He didn't say anything to me."

There was silence from Sam. Yeah. This guy was definitely suspicious. "He's got my family," admitted Sam at last, and Jake stopped short.

"What?"

Sam stopped too, but his serious expression didn't change. "My brother and my dad, he's got them here somewhere. He's using them to keep me here." He looked from Jake to Ava, who was staring at him with wide eyes. Apparently she hadn't known about this either. Sam sighed. "I just... I gotta find them, okay? You guys get out of here."

That sounded like a good plan. Jake's first instinct was to get the hell out of here, take Ava with him too because she was obviously freaking out right now. But Sam didn't exactly look tough, and Jake wanted to help him. He might have been weird and suspicious, but if he was telling the truth about his family then he'd need all the help he could get.

"No offence, man," he started. "But it don't exactly look like you've got this under control."

Sam glared. "It's not safe," he said. "You need to get out of here."

"We don't even know where we are!" Jake snapped, because suddenly the idea of being alone was so much worse than the idea of helping Sam find his family. "We don't know how to get out of here."

Ava looked between them. Her lip wobbled minutely and then she spoke. "We... we should stick together. In case the crazy guy comes back."

Sam huffed out a frustrated sigh. "Look, you don't understand-"

"What, and you do?" Jake cut him off. It was obvious Sam was holding back, here. The only question was what he wasn't telling them.

"Yeah," said Sam. He sounded annoyed. "I do. And I know it's not safe, and you need to leave."

Jake shrugged. "Pretty sure we've already established that's not happening," he said.

Sam sighed again and set off down the corridor, more quickly this time. He didn't disagree, though, so Jake grabbed Ava's arm and hurried after Sam, the drug still buzzing inside him. He was strong, he could handle this.

They'd find Sam's family and get the hell out of here. Everything else could wait.

* * *

><p>Step one – figure out where the hell they were.<p>

Step two – call Bobby, figure out what they were supposed to do now and step 3 – get Sam. Which should actually be step one, what with the need to protect his brother thrumming through Dean's veins. He didn't want to slow down, think about this and get backup. He wanted his brother.

John cast him a sidelong glance as they headed out of the dank alleyway towards the main street. It was the middle of the day, and people were walking down the road as if there weren't demons who liked to kidnap people just chilling in the next building. It was all kind of surreal.

"We gotta get out of here," said John gruffly. "It's not safe." Dean looked at him incredulously.

"Yeah," he snorted. "You don't say." John shot him a warning look. They were out on the sidewalk now, looking up and down the street for anything that would tell them where they were. John set off down the road and after a final glance at the building behind them, Dean followed. "We gonna call Bobby?"

John shook his head. "It's not safe," he said again. "There could be demons watching us, we gotta get out of here first."

Dean frowned, torn between the urge to follow his dad's orders and the need to protect Sam. "But-"

"Dean," said John, and that was it. Dean nodded tightly, trying to ignore the desperate need to go back for his brother, trying to ignore the constant underlying thought of _SamSamSamSam_ that came with every heartbeat. John was right. It wasn't safe here.

And that was exactly why they needed to stay. They were leaving Sam and that went against everything Dean had ever known. Worst still was the way John seemed to find it so easy to abandon his youngest son to the demons. But that was their dad. Always looking at the bigger picture, even when it meant letting down his sons. Dean had admired him for it, before. He was a hero. Now he was just a father leaving his son behind.

They found a car in a quiet street – it was the middle of the day, all the normal people were at work – and John got to work hotwiring it. It was an ugly blue wreck of a car, but it was a car all the same and really Dean didn't care at this point because the sooner they left and got somewhere safe, the sooner they could come back and save Sam's ass.

Eventually the car sputtered into life and John slid into the driver's seat, Dean taking shotgun, and they set off down the road. Dean had no idea where they were and no idea where they were going, but John seemed to know what he was doing.

"Where are we going?" Dean asked. There was silence for a minute and Dean glanced over at John, his father a tense silhouette against the day's bright light.

"Somewhere safe," said John, and Dean frowned. This wasn't right. John was notorious for keeping his sons on a need-to-know basis, but this was ridiculous. This was definitely something Dean needed to know. Unless John hadn't figured it out himself yet, which was a much scarier prospect.

"We should call Bobby," said Dean. "Maybe he's got a lead on the Colt."

John clenched his jaw. "Not yet."

Feeling uneasy, Dean settled back in his seat, glancing over at John every so often as the car trundled down the road out of town. Road signs flashed past and before long they were on the open road, trees and the occasional other car flying by. It was almost like every other car journey, just cruising along to the next town, the town after that, the next state, even further that that, maybe.

There was just one difference. Sam. Dean shifted in his seat. "Dad-"

"Dean," John cut him off. "We're not calling Bobby." Suddenly, he twisted the steering wheel, making the car swerve violently to the side of the road. His foot slammed on the brake and Dean put out a hand to stop himself being thrown forward.

"Dad, what the hell?" demanded Dean. "What are you doing?" Something was wrong here. Something was really, really wrong. Instinctively, one hand went to Dean's pocket before he realised he didn't have any kind of weapon with him. He felt vulnerable all of a sudden, defenceless in a way he never was around his dad.

"Sorry to disappoint ya, kid," said John, finally turning to face him. "But I ain't your daddy."

There was a dull rushing noise in Dean's ears as he stared at John, his heart pounding, cold horror sweeping over him. There was no way. There was no way this was happening. No. No way.

There was no way that John's eyes were black.

There was no way in hell that right now, John could be possessed.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: This chapter came a little easier, although I'm afraid it's pretty Dean-centric, so apologies if you're looking for a bit of Sam. I hope you enjoy it, let me know! :)**

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><p>Dean's mouth opened and closed soundlessly as he pressed himself up against the car door, fumbling for the handle. He had to get out, he had to get away now.<p>

"Aw, come on, Deano," said the demon, grinning. "Don't be like that."

"Stay away from me!" Dean gritted out, his hand closing around the door handle as he slammed himself against the door. It jerked open and Dean went stumbling out, grateful that he hadn't put his seatbelt on earlier. The demon just smiled more widely, opening his own door and stepping unhurriedly into the road. Dean glanced widely down the road, but there were no other cars anywhere. _Dammit!_

"Nowhere to run." John's gravelly voice might have been coming from the same body it always did, but it sounded different somehow. More dangerous. Even when John was giving orders, Dean knew it was to keep them safe. Now, he had no such assurance.

No weapons, either. Dean's mind raced. No weapons, no escape route, no backup plan, and he was stuck with a super-strong demon.

...Holy crap.

The demon sauntered towards Dean, and he stumbled back a couple more steps.

"Get out of my dad, you sonuvabitch!" he snarled, wishing for any kind of weapon, searching his mind to see if he knew any exorcisms. Dammit, he needed Sam. That kid had always been better than him at Latin.

"Oh, I'll deal with him in a minute, don't you worry," said his dad's voice. "Gotta get rid of you first, though."

"The hell are you talking about?" snapped Dean, his fear coming out as anger. Don't show fear, he reminded himself. Never let 'em know what you're thinking.

"Sorry about this, Deano," said the demon, not sounding it. "But you need to die today. Your daddy too. Gettin' in the way, both of ya."

Dean stared at him. "You freaks need us to keep Sam in line."

The demon shrugged, nonchalant. It was an unnerving look on his father, who was always so passionate about everything he did. "Sammy-boy only needs to think we have you." He stepped towards him. "You two are gettin' in the way, tryna screw up our plans. We don't need that."

Without further preamble, the demon lunged at Dean, tackling him to the ground. Dean grunted on impact, twisting onto his back and trying to buck the demon off of him, but it was much stronger than him – John could have beaten Dean even without a demon inside him.

A huge hand grasped Dean's head, slamming it into the concrete, and Dean grunted again as white stars exploded in his vision. He slammed a knee up into John's crotch as hard as he could – _sorry, Dad_ – but it had no effect.

"No use fighting, Deano," the demon taunted, hand fisted in Dean's hair. Pain throbbed in his head but Dean barely felt it what with the adrenaline pumping through him. He clenched his jaw and put all of his strength into shoving against the demon, trying to throw it off of him. It was like hitting a brick wall. John didn't move, black eyes glittering as he slammed Dean's head into the concrete again.

_No._

He couldn't die here, not like this, not on some shitty road next to a shitty car with his dad possessed and his brother nowhere near. He couldn't die, period. Not today. Not while Sam was still in danger.

"Gah!" He shifted, trying to move so that he had some leverage, any leverage, just enough to wriggle away...

Again, his head was slammed against the concrete. The edges of his vision faded into black and for a fleeting moment he thought how easy it would be to let go, to let unconsciousness take him, but he knew that if he went down now he wasn't ever getting back up.

"Get off me!" He grunted, pushing again, weaker this time. "You sonuva_bitch_!" he growled, pinned to the floor like a bug as the demon leered down at him.

"Say bye to Daddy, Deano." Grinning, the demon raised his head to deliver the final blow and Dean realised that this was it, holy shit, he was gonna die, there was no getting out of it, but what about Sam what about John he couldn't die now they weren't safe _he couldn't die_-

"Dad," he choked out, half sobbing and too damn scared to care. "Please..."

"Sorry, Deano." The demon smirked and then Dean's head was going down, the rush of air and blood in his ears, heart pounding with the terrifying realisation that he was going to die. He closed his eyes, waiting for the final hit.

Only it never came.

His head hovering mere inches from the road, Dean cautiously opened his eyes. John stared back at him, his eyes their regular colour and bright, like he was crying. He looked very human all of a sudden. "Run, Dean!" he urged, his face strained like holding back the demon was taking a herculean effort. "I've got it, but I dunno how long for." He swallowed, hands twitching like he wanted to reach out, make sure Dean was okay, but couldn't quite bring himself to do it. "Take the car and go! Call Bobby."

Dean stared at him, eyes wide, everything in him screaming for him not to leave his dad alone but it was an order and Sam was still in danger and shit, this entire thing was so messed up and before he knew what was happening he had staggered towards the car. The doors were still open so it was easy to slide in, clumsily shutting the doors and twisting the ignition key.

As he drove away, Dean could have sworn he'd seen John in the rearview mirror, eyes black once more.

Holy shit.

The adrenaline wearing off, Dean was suddenly very aware of the pain in his head. He couldn't focus on the road, just pressed down on the pedal and gripped the steering wheel like a lifeline as agony exploded at the back of his head.

There was probably blood. Definitely bruising. Almost certainly a concussion of some kind, with that many blows to the head. His brain had taken a damn good rattling, the orders John had given him skittering around inside like frightened animals.

Call Bobby. That was what he needed to do. For that, he needed a phone. Not taking his eyes off the road, even as his vision faded in and out, he fumbled for the glove compartment and managed to get it open, reaching inside to see if anyone had left a phone inside.

Miraculously, his hand closed around a mobile and he pulled it out, flipping it open and praying for it to be charged. It was. Finally, some good luck. Snorting at the thought of _this_ being good luck, Dean glanced away from the road long enough to punch in Bobby's number, having memorised it years ago for emergencies.

He held the phone up to his ear, listening to it ring, barely hearing it over the roaring of blood in his ears. The road in front of him blurred and Dean clung fiercely to consciousness, determined to do this one damn thing right.

Finally, there was a click as Bobby picked up. "Singer Salvage."

"Bobby," Dean said breathlessly. "I need help."

"Christ, boy, what happened?" Bobby demanded, sounding gruff but concerned and Dean wondered if his emotions were that obvious in his voice.

"There was – the demon, it took Sam," he explained, the words running together as his fuzzy mind made it difficult to speak. "It took me 'nd Dad too" – he paused for a breath because damn there just wasn't enough oxygen right now – "only we escaped, 'cept Dad was possessed and he tried to kill me and I just got away but I had to leave Dad behind..."

"Damn, Dean," Bobby said after a pause. "Alright, where are you? Are you hurt?"

Dean shook his head incredulously – how could he be worried about Dean right now? - and immediately regretted it as the pain flared once more, forceful enough to make him cry out, slamming on the brakes to stop the car.

It took a few moments for the pain to recede enough that he could focus on anything else. He was suddenly aware of Bobby's voice in his ear. "Dean? _Dean?_ Answer me, dammit!"

"I'm okay," Dean gasped out, and Bobby instantly snorted in response.

"Sure you are, kid. What happened?"

"Hit my head," Dean admitted. Bobby's sceptical silence let him know the older man had his doubts, but he wasn't about to disclose any more knowledge of his failures.

"Where are you?"

Dean thought back to when they'd been leaving the cities, pictured the signs flashing past. A couple of words came back to him, his mind piecing them together to make a name. He reeled off his location to Bobby, who gave a grunt of approval.

"Alright. I'm not far out, I'll be there soon. Stay put."

Without giving him a chance to reply, Bobby hung up. Relieved, Dean let the phone drop from his hand as he finally gave in to the tempting lure of unconsciousness.

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><p>Damn Winchesters. They were gonna be the death of him.<p>

Finally ready to get going after a mad dash to get everything he needed, Bobby clambered into his truck. The engine sputtered into life as he sped out of the salvage yard, mentally calculating how long it would take him to reach Dean, whether the kid would even be alive when he got there...

And Dean was the only Winchester even accounted for. Who knew where Sam and John were? Damn idjits. Bobby put his foot down, fingers clenched tightly around the steering wheel. He tried to piece together what little he knew about the situation. He had called them yesterday morning to tell John about the demonic signs in his area, and the next thing he knew Dean was calling him up with a head injury and one hell of a story.

He was just lucky the demon had taken them somewhere near his salvage yard. It had either been sloppiness, ignorance, or a trap, but it didn't matter now. Dean was hurt – almost definitely more than he let on, damn Winchester complex – and he needed help. Then they'd have to exorcise John, if he was even still alive (he was alive dammit!) and figure out how to rescue Sam.

Jesus, Sam. He was still with the demon that had killed Mary.

This was one hell of a situation.

They didn't even have the Colt, after a month of searching for it. Bobby had been tracking down Daniel Elkins, trying to figure out where the hunter was, if he was even still alive, if he still had the Colt with him. Even for someone as experienced as Bobby, it wasn't easy going. He still hadn't found the Colt, and they needed it now.

Instead, Bobby was armed with salt, holy water and exorcisms. It wasn't ideal but Bobby had never known a time when so many demons were in one place and it was the best he could do.

His old truck ate up the road, one mile at a time. It wasn't fast enough. He was still over an hour away from where Dean had said he was. Maybe he could get Dean to start driving this way, meet him halfway. Bobby shifted around until he had pulled his phone from his pocket and, keeping one eye on the road, redialed the number Dean had called him from.

It rang for around thirty seconds, until... _The number you are calling is unavailable. Please leave a message. _

Well, crap. Bobby tossed his phone onto the passenger seat, gritting his teeth. He needed to get to Dean. If the kid wasn't answering, it meant one of two things: one, he was in danger, in the middle of a fight of some kind or two, he was unconscious. Whichever it was, it wasn't good.

One thing was for sure, though – something big was going down. Something bigger than any hunter alive knew how to handle.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! You're all lovely :) Also, guess who signed up for Camp NaNo? Yeah, me, which means next week's update might be late since I'll be focused on writing other things. Still, you get a slightly longer chapter this week to make up for it. Let me know what you think!**

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><p>This was all going much better than he had expected. He had expected more tears, more fear, more fighting. His children were all wonderfully compliant. Eager to please, most of them much more so than Sam. Perhaps he'd made the wrong decision... but Sam was so well-trained, and already he had a kind of anger that would make him a fearsome opponent. Yes, Sam had been the right choice.<p>

Azazel smiled to himself. Jake, Ava and Sam were all on the loose. How long, he wondered, before they all turned on each other? How long before Sam realised his family weren't where he thought they were? Not long, surely.

He'd better get a move on, then. So far, Lily had been the only one to flat-out refuse his offer. It had been disappointing, but hey, there was always one black sheep in the family. Azazel had been the one in his, and look how he'd turned out. Everything would work out fine.

Azazel huffed out a pleased laugh and headed for the elevator, certain that his son would have done the job he had given to him but wanting to make sure. He didn't want those damn Winchesters coming back to try and beat him again... they were stubborn, he'd give them that. Not that they were any kind of real threat. They didn't have the Colt, and that was the only thing that could kill him, as well as being the key that he'd need before all of this was done.

He'd get it, though. Azazel had his ways, and they were much better than the petty attempts the hunters had made so far. Part of him was irritated by the hunters, in the same way one would be annoyed by an insect, but they were so _amusing_, half the fun of this tedious plan.

As he stepped into the elevator, he heard the vague murmur of voices coming around the corridor. He paused, deciding it couldn't hurt to have a look at what his children were up to. Instead of going up like he had planned to, Azazel stepped out of the elevator and ducked into the doorway next to it, slipping behind the closed door just as Sam, Ava and Jake came past.

"So, like, where are we going?" Ah, Ava. Such a good little actress. She'd go far.

A sigh from Sam. "I don't know, Ava. I don't know where they are!" Ooh, Sammy was having trouble keeping his head. Azazel couldn't wait to see his reaction when he found out what had happened to his family. All of that rage, all of that power... yes, Sam was going win this thing, but the others were gonna put up one hell of a fight.

Jake's voice came next, a deep voice that barely covered the panic the boy must have been feeling. "Well, we gotta start somewhere." The kids were standing in front of the elevator doors now. "The only way is up."

Sam glanced over his shoulder. For a moment Azazel thought the boy had spotted him, but if he had he didn't say so. He looked edgy, and Azazel had a feeling it wasn't just from missing his family. Those demon blood cravings had to be getting pretty nasty by now. He'd hold out, but for how much longer?

"Okay," said Sam. "Let's go."

"What?" Ava's voice squeaked. She was good at playing the scared little victim, Azazel noted. If Sam didn't win this, Ava would be an excellent leader of Hell. He had chosen his children well. "We don't even know what's up there! What if there are more _weirdos_ there?"

"Gotta take that chance, don't we?" Jake snapped. His temper was fraying already, it seemed. It couldn't be the demon blood; he wouldn't be feeling the pangs yet, only the power. "C'mon." Jake was the first into the elevator, followed by Ava and then Sam, who was still frowning, obviously hesitant to leave in case his family were still down here. Azazel smirked, unable to help himself. Sam wouldn't need to worry about that for much longer.

Making a snap decision, he stepped out of the room he'd been lurking in and followed the kids into the elevator, just as the doors slid shut behind them. "Howdy, kids."

Ava jumped and Jake looked startled, having been focused on the buttons until this point. Sam, however, just looked pissed. "Where's my family, you son of a bitch?"

Azazel tutted. "Language, Sammy-boy." So much anger. It would be difficult to keep in check, but if he could harness it... Azazel shook the thoughts away, concentrating on the situation at hand. "So how's it going?"

"Answer the question," snarled Sam, stepping towards him as well as he could in the confined space. Ava put a tentative hand on his arm, trying to stop him, but Sam brushed her off easily.

Shrugging, Azazel replied, "No idea." He grinned. It wasn't exactly a lie. His son would have lured the Winchesters away to their deaths, but he didn't know exactly how the kid had gone about it. "Sorry."

"You're lying," Sam said. He looked as though he was about to say something else, but stopped when he remembered who else was with them.

Azazel smiled pleasantly at Ava and Jake. "So, guys," he said, leaning against the wall. "How d'you like this place so far?"

"What do you even want with us?" There was genuine fear in Ava's eyes, which Azazel supposed was only to be expected. She was experiencing this stuff for the first time, after all.

He shrugged. "I'd rather not reveal the plan so early in the game, kids. Ruins the fun, ya know?"

"You're crazy," said Jake, and he reached over and quickly slammed one of the buttons, like he thought Azazel would try to stop him.

Azazel raised an eyebrow. "Maybe, but I've spoken to all of you kiddies. I know the real you. And someone here," he glanced around at them, letting his glee shine from his face, "has been keeping secrets."

All three of them paled, glanced at each other. But of course - they were all keeping secrets, weren't they? Well, this was going to be fun. They'd all turn on each other, soon enough. Azazel had just helped the process along.

The elevator lurched to a halt on the first floor and the doors slid open. "This is my stop," said Azazel cheerfully. "I'll see you kids later." And he strode out of the elevator, confident that they wouldn't want to follow him. They were trying to keep away from him, after all.

As he left, the first sounds of dissension in the ranks reached his ears. "Alright." It was Jake. "I think we need to talk about this."

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><p>Faster. He needed to drive faster. Dean could be de- no. Dean could be in a hell of a lot of trouble, but Dean was definitely alive. Winchesters were stubborn idjits. They didn't just keel over and die.<p>

Still, Bobby pressed the pedal just a little harder. He'd be there soon.

After what couldn't have been more than half an hour – though it felt much longer – a blue wreck of a car came into sight, motionless in the middle of the road. This had to be it. Bobby pulled up next to the car, his alarm only increasing when he saw Dean in the driver's seat, unconscious.

"Son of a-" Bobby cut himself off, hurriedly climbing out of his truck and rushing round to where Dean was. He yanked the car door open (Dean probably hadn't been thinking about locking the doors, more focused on escaping) and leaned in to get a good look at Dean.

He was unconscious, blood matting his hair and when Bobby felt for a bruise he found a decent-sized lump that made Dean groan when he poked it. "Sorry, kid," muttered Bobby, just glad for some reaction. "You gotta wake up, though." He tapped Dean's cheek as hard as he dared. "Dean!"

Dean wrinkled his nose and a tiny groan escaped his lips, but his eyes didn't open. Bobby swore. "Dean! Come on!" He needed Dean to wake up, needed to know that at least one of these idjits was gonna be okay. Then they could go rescue the other two, but they couldn't do that if Dean was unconscious.

"Dean," snapped Bobby, hoping the harsh tone would be enough to shock Dean into consciousness. "You need to wake up."

Dean's eyelids fluttered. "Sam's in danger," Bobby said after a moment in which Dean didn't wake up. Playing the Sam card was a low blow, but Dean had to wake up and even in unconsciousness, Dean had the urge to protect his brother.

"Huh?" Dean slurred out, his eyes finally cracking open.

"'Bout time," huffed Bobby, relieved just to see Dean awake. "How ya feelin'?"

Dean frowned, trying to sit up and then grimacing as he shifted his head. "Just peachy," he muttered as Bobby pushed a hand down on his chest, trying to keep Dean from moving too much.

"Hold still, I gotta see how bad this is." He headed back to his truck and grabbed the first aid kit from beneath the seats. He was back within the minute. The kit opened with a click and Bobby dug around inside for gauze and pain pills, grabbing a tiny flashlight while he was at it. "Here," he said, handing Dean a couple of Tylenol pills. Dean frowned at them but quickly swallowed them, grimacing a little. As he was doing that, Bobby grabbed his face as gently as he could and flicked the light on, shining it into Dean's eyes.

"Hey!" Dean batted him away, blinking rapidly. "What the hell?"

So much for getting this done quickly.

It took much longer than he would have liked to get Dean cleaned up and make sure he wasn't about to keel over. John could be halfway across the state by now and Dean was in no condition to be running around, but Bobby knew he wouldn't be able to stop him.

"Alright," he said once they were both settled in his truck. "Which way?"

Once they were headed in the right direction, a heavy silence descended over them. Bobby knew the chances of them finding John anywhere near where Dean had left him were slim to none, and after that they had few leads, if any. And how the hell were they meant to trap the demon, once they found it? Holy water might not be enough.

It was with no small amount of surprise that they found John standing in the middle of the road exactly where Dean had left him. Bobby drew to a halt, swallowing. He'd only faced off a few demons in his life and it wasn't a pleasant experience – especially his first one. Still, the Winchesters needed his help, damn idjits, and he couldn't do anything but provide it. They had to do this. He glanced over at Dean. "Don't suppose it'd help if I told ya to stay here."

Dean gave a wry grin. "You know me." Bobby sighed, nodded, and handed Dean a squirt-bottle of holy water.

"Be careful. We don't know what this thing wants."

Dean snorted. "It wants to gank us."

"Yeah, well." Bobby said nothing more, but he had his doubts. Why hadn't the thing attacked them yet? He swung his door open, hearing Dean do the same, and stepped out onto the road, holy water in one hand, exorcism in the other. This was suicide. Absolute suicide.

But they didn't have another option.

They stepped out onto the road. The demon didn't move, just watched as they approached it.

"Had to call for backup, huh Deano?"

Bobby saw Dean's jaw clench, but there was no reaction other than that. Smart kid. "What d'you want, you sonuvabitch?" Bobby asked instead, trying to draw the attention to him as Dean edged towards the demon.

"What I want," the demon said, striding towards Bobby, "is for the Winchesters to die. Among other things," it added casually.

Bobby took another step. "Why?"

He didn't get his answer. Dean had lunged at the demon, spraying holy water like a mad man and Bobby, seeing this as the only opportunity he'd get, began to recite the exorcism. The demon hissed and fought, trying to get Dean off, but the younger man had the upper hand, keeping the demon pinned with a constant attack of holy water.

Bobby kept on going, the exorcism coming easily to him. This had been much easier than he expected.

Then, suddenly, a plume of black smoke came shooting from John's mouth, spiralling up into the sky. Bobby was immediately on his guard, expecting it to go into Dean or himself, but the smoke shot off down the road and disappeared.

There was a long pause. "Dad?" asked Dean hesitantly. Bobby turned his attention back to the Winchesters.

"Yeah," John said shakily. "Yeah, it's me."

"Thank God," said Dean, and he rolled off his dad and onto the road. Bobby really hoped there were no cars coming.

"C'mon, ya idjits," he said. "We gotta get going."

John scrambled to his feet, grimacing a little, and then grasped Dean's arm and hauled him up. Dean made little grunting noises and nearly pitched forward again, only stopped by John's arm as the older man half-dragged him towards the car. They all piled into the truck, John and Dean in the back, Bobby up front.

"We need to go back," John said hoarsely as Bobby started up the truck. "We need to get Sam."

"Yeah?" Bobby looked out at the slowly darkening sky. "How ya gonna do that?"

There was a resounding silence from both Winchesters, and Bobby sighed. "Look." He glanced over his shoulder. "Ya ain't gonna do Sam any good if ya go chargin' in, guns blazin'. We need to think about this." He pushed on the accelerator and started the drive back to the town they'd just come from. "We'll get a motel room and plan this thing. We'll get your boy back, John," he promised, hoping they weren't just empty words. "But we gotta be careful."

John took a shaky breath. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, okay." He turned his full attention to Dean after that, and Bobby focused on the road. There was silence for the rest of the drive.

When they finally pulled into the first crappy motel they came across, it was dark outside. Bobby booked two rooms, one for John and Dean and one for him. They all piled into one room first, needing to get started on their plan of attack as well as patch Dean up. The kid's head had to be hell by this point. It was a wonder he'd made it as long as he had.

Dean sank down onto the edge of one of the beds, feet resting on the carpet which probably hadn't been brown originally, even if it was now. John crouched in front of him, examining his head and refusing to meet his son's eye. Bobby hadn't realised until now that it had been John in there with the demon as it attacked his son, John who had been forced to watch as Dean nearly died, who had been made to leave his other son behind.

That was bound to leave a mark.

"Looks good," John said in his usual gravelly voice. "Bobby patch this up?"

"Yeah," said Dean impatiently. "Dad, I'm fine. We gotta get Sam!" He started to stand up but John pushed him back down.

"We can't do anything for him right now, Dean," he said, his voice carefully controlled. "We'll get him back, I promise."

Feeling like he was intruding, Bobby shifted uncomfortably in the doorway. Only the trill of his cell phone alerted the Winchesters to his presence once more. Wondering who the hell was calling him and thinking that if it was Rufus the idjit could drive himself home from the bar, Bobby pulled out his phone and flipped it open. "Hello?"

"Is this Bobby Singer?" came an unfamiliar voice.

Bobby frowned. "Yeah. Who's this?" John and Dean were watching him now, obviously curious. Bobby was pretty damn curious himself. Every so often he'd get a call from a new contact, someone who'd heard he was the best researcher in the game and needed a hand, but something told him that wasn't the case this time.

"The name's Daniel Elkins. I heard you were lookin' for me." There was a pause and a shuffling noise in the background. "Well, lookin' for the Colt."

Suddenly a lot more interested in the conversation, Bobby nodded even though the man couldn't see him. "You heard right."

"Well," said Elkins, "I reckon I can help you with that."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Eek! I'm so sorry I didn't update last week; NaNo and real life kind of crept up on me there (heh, responsibilities, what are they?). I don't want to be one of those people who completely suck at updating, so hopefully next week we'll be back on track - I make no promises, though, since NaNo is still going on until the end of June. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

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><p>The three teenagers stood looking at each other silently, each waiting for the other to speak. They needed to talk, Sam knew that. But he wouldn't be the first to speak.<p>

"Talk about what?" said Ava shakily. "I mean, he's obviously lying."

"Is he?" Jake's voice was even.

"Totally." Ava looked to Sam for support, and Sam shrugged. Demons lied, he knew that too. But sometimes they told the truth just to mess with you. One of them could be lying. He couldn't trust these guys, he had only just met them, but he couldn't trust the demon either. He wished Dean was here.

Sam shrugged helplessly. "I don't know what he's talking about."

Jake sighed as the elevator lurched back into motion. "Well, someone here is lying." He stared at both Sam and Ava in turn, and they glared right back.

He couldn't tell them about the demons. They'd think he was crazy and then they wouldn't listen to anything else he had to say. How would they get out of here then? Sam frowned at his feet. Finally, Jake spoke again, breaking the tense silence that gripped them.

"He... he gave me this stuff. Some kinda... I dunno, it was like this red liquid, he made me drink it." Sam's stomach dropped.

"He did what?"

"I dunno, man." Jake shifted uncomfortably. "It made me stronger. I dunno what it was."

"So you just drank it?" The mention of the demon blood had reminded Sam of just how hungry he was, though, just how much he needed the blood... He shivered and swallowed, wondering if he could trick his body into believing he had drunk it. He didn't want to drink the blood, but if this went on much longer he'd have to.

"Sam?" Ava was frowning at him when he opened his eyes and hey, when had he even closed them? "What's wrong?"

Sam lunged at her, grabbing the front of her shirt and pushing her against the wall. "Did you drink it too, Ava? Did he give you it?"

"Sam, what the hell?" Ava shoved at him, trying to move away.

"Did you give it to you?" Sam insisted.

"What the hell-" Ava struggled briefly, then sighed. "Yes, okay? He gave the stupid stuff to me."

Sam looked between Jake and Ava, incredulous. Who did that? "What, so this crazy guy offers you some weird drink and you just take it?"

"Sam, what is the big deal?" demanded Ava as the elevator stopped, opening its doors and spilling its passengers out onto the second floor.

The room they were now in was dim, the lights off but the daylight spilling through the windows, and filled with little office cubicles. In each one was a desk with a computer on top and an array of office supplies. It looked just like any other big office would, and Sam wasn't sure what he had expected. Blood, maybe? Meathooks and chains, with demons torturing human souls? But it was just a normal room.

"Sam." Jake's even voice broke through his thoughts. "What do you know that we don't?"

Sam sighed, knowing he'd have to tell them something but not sure how to without spilling the whole story. "It's... this drug thing. It makes you stronger"- a flash of visions, the throb of addiction, the pain of exorcising the demon flickered through his mind -"but it's really addictive."

Ava wandered around the office, trailing her fingers along the desks. "That sicko drugged us?"

"How do you know?" That was Jake, dark, suspicious eyes flicking between Sam and Ava, and Sam had the sudden feeling of hopelessness, the knowledge that he couldn't trust anyone here. He glanced over at Ava, trying to convince himself that these two, at least, wouldn't hurt him. They were all in the same boat here, and it was that knowledge that made him keep talking.

"This guy... he took me before, kidnapped me, gave me this drug." Sam shifted uncomfortably, trying not to think back to the week he had spent tied up in the warehouse and the pain of the withdrawal afterwards, trying not to think about the blood at all but dammit he needed it and-

-and his whole world tilted, fading to white for a moment and when his eyes opened again he was on the floor, propped up against the wall with Jake crouched down beside him, frowning. "Sam?"

He sucked in a deep breath. He couldn't think about the demon blood, about the addiction, even as it took over his mind, spreading like wildfire. He had to focus. "'M okay. Sorry."

"S'okay," said Jake softly. "You good?"

Sam nodded. "I'm good." He let Jake haul him to his feet, wishing like hell it was Dean, and sighed. "That's all I know, I mean, I- I don't know what he wants with us." A huge rush of air escaped his lungs, frustration pounding through him. "Maybe we can figure out where we are, though." There were computers here, they could do research and figure out what the hell was going on - as long as they could keep the demons away.

Jake followed his gaze to the computers and the cubicles, where Ava was already standing. "Good thinking." He headed straight for them, and Sam slipped into the nearest seat and booted up the computer. It felt good to be doing something, taking action instead of fumbling around for a handhold, trying not to fall. Even if they weren't finding his family, they were doing something. Dean and Dad would find him, eventually, Sam was sure of it. They had to be safe.

"I know," said Ava suddenly, over the tapping of keys as Sam and Jake logged onto the computers. Sam looked up at her, frowning when she seemed to be just standing there.

"You know what?" he asked distractedly, giving the computer desktop a cursory once-over before loading the internet up.

Ava took a deep, shaky breath.

"I know what he wants with us."

* * *

><p>The Colt.<p>

The very thing they had been looking for this entire time. Could it be possible it would just stroll into their lives in the hands of a helpful hunter? Experience told Bobby that couldn't be right, but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, even if said horse was a gun that could kill anything.

"It's Daniel Elkins, he's got the Colt," relayed Bobby hurriedly to John and Dean before returning to the conversation. "That so?" He was trying very hard to ignore the frantic hand motions John was making for him to hand over the phone.

"Yeah," Elkins' voice crackled over the line, and Bobby desperately hoped the connection wouldn't crap out before they'd had a chance to sort this out. "I heard John Winchester's been lookin' for it,"

"Yeah," said Bobby slowly, waiting for Elkins to continue. Something rustled on the other end of the line.

"Heard he's got two boys, that true?"

Bobby nodded before he remembered Elkins couldn't see him, turning his back on John so he couldn't see the way the younger man was grasping for the phone. "Yeah," he said again. "Two sons."

The other hunter exhaled heavily. "That ain't no life for children," he said grimly. "I wanna help him, let him finish his crazy revenge mission. This gun's the only thing that can kill what he's goin' after."

Wondering how the other man knew so much about the Winchesters but not wanting to ask in case he pissed Elkins off, Bobby said, "So you'll help us? Let us use the Colt?"

"Yeah." There was a thud. "I got it with me, I can get it to ya if ya tell me where ya are. I'll be comin' too, course. Nothin' personal, I just like to keep an eye on it."

Bobby nodded just as John snatched the phone from his hands. "Daniel Elkins?"

Bobby didn't try to take the phone back, knowing John needed this, and instead just listened to the buzzing of Elkins' voice from the other line.

"It- the demon, it took my son," John was saying, and Bobby raised his eyebrows a little – both at how vulnerable John sounded and at just how much he was telling this man, this stranger. It had taken him years to trust Bobby with the information. "We need the Colt, we have to kill it."

"Sonuvabitch needs to _die_," growled Dean, but the effects were dulled by the way he swayed as he spoke, one hand cradling his head. "We gotta go get Sam."

Bobby rested a hand on the young man's shoulder, as John kept talking to Daniel Elkins. "We'll get him back, son." He loved Sam and Dean like his own sons, had cared for them whenever the idjits stopped by, made sure they always had a place to go. Knowing Sam was in danger? It hurt, more than he cared to admit, so he couldn't imagine what it was doing to Dean.

John was looking at the card propped up on one of the bedside tables. "Yeah, we're at the E-Z Sleep motel," he said, nose wrinkling at the crappy name. "Alright. We'll see you then." He took the phone away from his ear, and Bobby guessed that Elkins had hung up.

He tossed the phone to Bobby, who caught it with ease. "He'll be here in about a day," said John softly. He was staring at his hands like he couldn't quite believe it.

"Not soon enough," said Dean, trying to stand up. Bobby gripped his shoulder firmly and pushed him back onto the bed.

"We need to wait, Dean." He frowned at Dean's head. The gauze he had taped down earlier was already coming off, difficult to tape to the young man's hair. "And you need to rest. Ya took a beatin'."

"No kidding," huffed Dean. "I'm okay, though. We need to go get Sam."

"How you gonna do that, Dean? Huh?" That was John, but his tone wasn't harsh, just tired. "Look, I don't like it any more than you." He finally turned to face them. "But this is the only safe way to do it. We wait for Elkins to show up, we get the Colt and then we storm the place, get Sam out."

"He could be hurt! He could be-" Dean cut himself off, making a strangled choking sound, but Bobby could guess what the next word would have been.

_He could be dead._

It wasn't like the thought hadn't occurred to Bobby, hell, it had probably occurred to John, but he didn't want Dean thinking like that. Sam had to be okay.

"Don't you say that!" John had shot to his feet, and for an instant Bobby saw the fear in his eyes before it disappeared. "Don't you dare say that. He's alive, Dean. We're gonna get him out of there."

For a moment, the only sound was John's harsh breathing as his shoulders heaved up and down. It looked as though Dean was considering arguing, but his father's authority won out and he nodded. "Okay. Okay." He sighed shakily and ran a hand through his hair, wincing at the pain it must have caused.

John seemed to notice too. "You need to rest. Your head... I..." He faltered, probably remembering exactly why Dean's head was in such a state. "Go to sleep. I'll wake you up in an hour or so, make sure you don't have a concussion."

It was a testament to how much pain Dean was in that he just nodded, pulling off his boots and lying down on the bed. He closed his eyes and was asleep within minutes.

Bobby glanced at John. The younger man was watching Dean with a pained expression. "I hurt him. Both of them. I screwed this up, Bobby, so bad."

Swallowing and screwing up his fists – because he wasn't prepared for a guilty John Winchester, he never was – Bobby nodded. "You did. Wasn't your fault you got possessed, mind you. But you got 'em into this life, John. It's time to get 'em out."

Sometimes John needed the truth, however cold it was. That was when he came to Bobby. "Now," said Bobby, "let's get to work. We need to get a plan of that building and figure out where they'll be keeping Sam."

John nodded shakily. "Okay. Yeah. I can do that." He scrubbed a hand down his face, visibly reconstructing his mask. "Let's get to work."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I'm sorry! I suck, I know, but you probably don't wanna hear excuses, so I'm just gonna go ahead and post this. Next week's chapter is gonna be on time, I swear. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter - let me know!**

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><p>Sam froze, fingers hovering above the keyboard. Slowly, he turned to look at Ava. "You know?"<p>

She nodded shakily. "Yeah." Her hands were trembling at her side.

Jake twisted in his seat. His expression was dangerous, the kind of expression that appeared on Dean's face when something threatened Sam. "How long have you been keepin' secrets, Ava?"

Her lip wobbled, tears brimming in her eyes but not falling as if they too were afraid to face the world. "I- okay, look, it was totally crazy and I didn't believe him at first so I didn't tell anyone but I think maybe he was serious and I don't know what to _do_ and-"

"Breathe, Ava," Sam reminded her, trying to think. Did she know about Yellow Eyes being a demon? Was that what she thought was so crazy? "What did he tell you?"

Ava stopped gulping down air long enough to say, "He wants us to fight each other."

Silence.

Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't that. "What are you talking about?" asked Sam, swallowing. His mouth was drier than a desert all of a sudden, but he was getting used to that feeling. The feeling of fear.

Ava shrugged helplessly. "I don't- I mean I don't know, I don't know what the hell he wants he just said we were gonna fight each other and one of us was gonna be the champion and he called us his children how creepy is that and-"

-and she'd forgotten to breathe. Again. As she stopped to suck in huge mouthfuls of air, Sam tried to think logically about this. It was hard, though, with Ava panicking in front of him and Jake frowning next to him and the undercurrent of _bloodbloodblood_ flowing through all his thoughts. He swallowed again. Focus. He needed to focus. "Did he say why?" _Did he say anything about the blood? _Fuck, he needed to stop thinking about it. Okay. Focus. Cold sweat beads formed on the back of his neck. He could do this.

"No, okay!" Ava's voice wobbled. "I don't know, I don't freakin' _know_, I don't-"

"Why didn't you tell us?" Jake's voice was like lead.

"I thought he was crazy!" Ava looked between them wildly. "He is crazy, right?"

Sam tried to keep the shaking to a minimum. "Right. Yeah." Maybe he'd show up again and give Sam some blood but no fuck no he didn't want that except that he did he needed the blood whywhywhy no he wanted Dean needed Dean stop it Sam _stop it_.

"Well, it ain't gonna happen, is it? We ain't gonna be fighting each other." Jake sounded completely sure of himself. Sam wondered what that was like; he'd never been completely sure of himself in his life.

"No," he said softly, trying hard not to think about how these other kids had been dragged into this thing, this mess of a situation. They should be worrying about pimples and proms, not demons and drugs. Ava shook her head in agreement.

"Alright," said Sam, scrubbing a sweat-damp hand down his face. "I'm gonna- I'll see if I can figure out where we are." He turned back to the computer. This was okay, this was good. He knew how to handle a computer. He was in control. His fingers flew across the keys, the clack-clack-clack filling the silence of the room.

It didn't take him long to figure it out because Sam was smart and, well, then there was the internet. "Okay, we're in South Dakota, about two hours from Sioux Falls." That was good. That was definitely good. Bobby lived in Sioux Falls. A couple of hours out. Help.

"Great," said Jake flatly. "So we know where we are. How the hell d'we get out of here?"

Sam glanced around the little booth he was sitting in and found that to his amazement there was a phone sitting on the desk just inches away. Unable to believe his luck (fucking Winchester luck, no luck unless it was bad), Sam picked up the phone and started to dial, Bobby's number drilled into his brain by both Dean and Dad. "My uncle lives nearby, I'm gonna call him," he said, holding the phone up to his ear. "See if he can get here."

Ava gave him an incredulous look. "What are you talking about? Call the police!"

"Yeah." Sam huffed out a humourless laugh. "Trust me, that wouldn't be a good idea." Not that they had any reason to trust him, none of them had any reason to trust each other. Ava had just proved that.

And then the Winchester luck kicked in, late but definitely there because the goddamn phone wouldn't connect. Sam redialled, heart pounding, not wanting to believe that his one hope, his one plan had just crashed and burned, but the same static and silence greeted him. No ringing. No gruff answer from Bobby. Nothing.

He dropped the phone onto the holder with a hollow clunk. "Lines are down."

"Dammit," Jake said softly. His dark eyes had an unreadable expression.

There was a despairing silence for a few moments. Sam wondered if there were demons nearby, wondered if they would hurt them, wondered if they'd give him some blood.

He didn't have long to wonder. There was a swooshing noise that made all three heads shoot up, looking around for the source of the noise.

The elevator doors.

Someone was there. Sam leaned out of the booth so that he could see, ready to duck behind the thin plastic wall if it became dangerous.

It didn't.

A boy stepped out of the elevator, trembling even worse than Sam was. He had blonde hair and an expression like a kicked puppy. His lower lip wobbled as he took his surroundings, watery eyes flitting over Ava, then Jake and then finally Sam.

"W-who are you?"

Jake glared. "Who are _you_?"

The boy clenched his fists, probably to hide his shaking fingers. "I'm Max. Who are you guys?" he asked again.

There was silence. "I'm Jake," replied Jake at last, his voice as heavy as it always was.

"Ava."

"I'm Sam. What are you doing here?" asked Sam, trying not to panic at the thought of there being more psychic kids (more competition for the blood noSamno don't think about that).

"I don't know, man, I- I just woke up here and there was some crazy guy and-"

"Alright, alright, slow down," Sam said, trying to sound soothing, like he had any idea what was going on. "Are you hurt?"

Max swallowed, blinked back his tears and shook his head. "No."

"Okay." Sam exhaled heavily. He couldn't deal with this. "Look, Max, we're uh, we're trying to get out of here. The phoneline is down, so, uh... I dunno." Ugh. His mind was clouding over again. "We could head downstairs, see if there's a way out down there. I mean, he obviously wants us alive for now, right?"

"What d'you mean, for now?" Max's voice quavered, and Sam shrugged, wishing he had Dean's knack for reassurance.

"I don't know what's going on, okay?" He swallowed. There wasn't time to explain to Max. Dean and John could be in danger still.

Maybe there would be demons downstairs. Demons with demon blood inside them. Demon blood that Sam could drink yes that was a good idea no wait bad, very bad definitely not a good idea except he _needed it_.

"Come on." He headed towards the elevator, trying to hide the shake in his step and the fear in his heart. "Let's go check the place out." Ava, Jake and Max followed him as the elevator doors slid open and they stepped inside, but Sam didn't notice. He was busy thinking about the blood that he needed, the blood that he would be getting very soon.

The next demon he found, he was going to drain dry.

They could escape after that.

* * *

><p>"Alright. Thanks, Caleb. See ya soon." Bobby flipped his phone shut and turned back to the map that he and John had been poring over all night. "Caleb'll be here soon."<p>

John glanced up briefly, dark calculating eyes locking onto Bobby's. "That was quick." It wasn't a complaint.

"Yeah," Bobby circled a building on the map. "He took a plane." Another building. "Wanted to get here soon as he could, you know what he's like."

"Mmm." John had already lost interest in the conversation. They had narrowed Sam's location down to just a couple of buildings, based on John and Dean's knowledge of the area and the building itself. It was a big town, but not so big that they couldn't figure out where John's youngest son was being kept.

Dean was sleeping, crashed out on one of the thin mattresses on the other side of the room, limbs splayed haphazardly across the bed with a frown on his face that said that even in sleep, he knew that Sam wasn't here and that was just wrong. Bobby yawned, rubbing at his gritty eyes. "Alright," he said again. "I'm gonna head to the library, print off a couple pictures o' these places, and you're gonna stay here an' sleep. When I get back you can tell me which of the damn buildings your son is in."

John looked up at him wearily. "I'm coming."

"Don't be an idjit, John." Bobby folded up the map and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. "You need sleep, you'll be no good to us like this." It was harsh, perhaps, but it was what John needed to hear. The man was a freakin' robot when it came to protecting his boys.

An hour or so later, Bobby returned to the motel from the library (alright, it was late, he broke in. So sue him, they needed this crap) to find a man waiting outside their motel room. Bobby came up to stand beside him. He was a tall man, muscular, with dark brown hair and an expression that was almost nervous. "You Daniel Elkins?"

The man looked at him, eyebrows creased. "Yeah, that's me." A glimmer of recognition lit his eyes. "Bobby Singer?"

"The one an' only," agreed Bobby gruffly. "Come on in." He pulled out the key he had taken with him and unlocked the door, being careful not to knock the salt line as he stepped inside. Elkins shut the door behind him.

Unsurprisingly, John hadn't gone to sleep. He was still in the same spot he'd been in an hour ago, clutching his journal and scouring it with a troubled expression. Dean was still asleep, so that was something. John looked up when they stepped inside, one hand already on his knife before he saw who it was. He shot to his feet. "Daniel Elkins?"

"That's me," said the man. "You'd be John Winchester?"

John nodded. "You said you could help us?"

Bobby headed over to Dean's bed, knowing he'd want to be awake for this, and shook his shoulder until a set of bleary green eyes stared back up at him. "Elkins is here," he muttered, turning back to the conversation as Dean sat up, rubbing his eyes and wincing a little.

"Yeah," Elkins was saying, gaze flickering briefly over to Dean and acknowledging him with a nod. "I can help you." He reached inside his jacket and slowly, carefully pulled out a gun. Not just any gun. The Colt.

"You know what this is, I'm sure."

John's hands twitched as if he wanted to hold it and Elkins seemed to understand. A slow smile spread across his face and he handed the Colt to John, who took it almost reverently. "It can really kill anything?"

Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed and shuffled over to join the others, slipping into the chair next to his dad. Elkins nodded. "Even that demon of yours, I reckon."

"And you'll let us use it?"

Nodding at John's question, Elkins said, "You need it more than I do, if what I've heard about you Winchesters is true. 'Specially now it's got your son, huh?"

Dean nodded fiercely despite how his head must have been pounding. "Great. Let's go get Sam." There was a gleam in his eyes, the gleam Bobby had seen from many a hunter in his time. The lust for revenge.

"Hang on, son," he said. "We don't even know where we're goin' yet." He handed John the pictures he'd printed out earlier. "Which one?"

John put down the Colt and shuffled through the pictures – they weren't great quality, it wasn't like people made a habit of taking pictures of office blocks – before he finally slapped one down on the table. Everyone peered at it as John said, "That one."

"Awesome," said Dean impatiently. "Now can we go?"

John silenced him with a look. "Now we wait for Caleb. We're gonna do this right, I'm not putting Sam in any more danger. Or you," he added, when Dean opened his mouth to protest.

Outside, there was a rumble that sounded an awful lot like Caleb's truck. "That'll be him?" said Elkins, picking up the Colt and slipping it back into his jacket. John nodded, and that was the only cue they needed to head back outside into the parking lot.

It was showtime.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: On time, for once! Admittedly I wrote this entire thing last night, but I hope you enjoy it anyway - let me know! :)**

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><p>The elevator stopped.<p>

Sam took a deep breath, preparing to step out and face whatever might be there, but the doors didn't open.

There was silence for a moment until Ava spoke. "What's going on?"

Confused, Sam reached for the doors and tried to pry them apart. They refused to budge, and he yanked again, harder this time. "C'mon..." he muttered; they stayed firmly shut. "Great." Just what they needed.

"Lemme try." Jake pushed Sam aside and gripped the doors tightly, his knuckles white with effort as he tried to wrench them apart.

Nothing.

"Sorry, Jake." They all whirled around, trying to find the source of the voice, only to be met with a young blonde woman standing at the back of the elevator. She gave them an amused smirk. "But that's not gonna work." She grabbed his head and smacked it against the wall, quickly repeating the process with Ava and Max.

Sam backed up against the wall, his gaze flickering between the woman and the other three where they lay crumpled on the ground. He recognised the woman from before; she had tried to help him escape, until he was caught by Meg. "W-what are you doing?" His voice shook even as he tried to fight down the rising panic. There was nowhere to run to, and the ease with which she had knocked out Ava, Max and Jake frightened him. He took a deep breath and straightened up, trying to act confident and channel his inner Dean.

"Relax, would ya?" Ruby leaned casually against the wall, arms folded. "I didn't want them to overhear. They don't know about the demon crap, do they?"

Sam shook his head. "What's going on? How did you get in here?"

"Demons is what's going on." Ruby glanced around as if there were more demons in the elevator with them and then frowned as his second question seemed to register. "What are you talkin' about? I was in here when you guys got in." She snorted. "I guess you didn't notice, huh?"

It seemed unlikely. Sam had been trained to be observant, to be constantly alert and to notice all the little details. It was very unlikely.

But not impossible.

Because Sam had demon blood seeping through his veins – Sam had an addiction that clouded his mind and numbed his senses even as they seemed to be hyper-alert. It made sense that Sam wouldn't have spotted Ruby on the way in.

"I guess," he replied doubtfully, trying to think. It was hard. It shouldn't be this hard.

"Look, Sam," said Ruby, lifting his chin to make him look at her in a way that was so similar to Dean, but so different at the same time. Sam had never ached for his brother so badly. "I know about the demon blood."

"What?" Sam froze. How could she know? No one was supposed to know. No one was allowed to know what a freak he was. "How?"

"It doesn't matter," snapped Ruby. "But I know that it's addictive and I know that you need more and I also know," she paused, reaching inside her jacket, "that it gives you certain abilities that we can use to our advantage." And she pulled a small vial from her jacket, the kind of vial Sam had seen before. The kind of vial that held demon blood, trapped inside the tiny glass prison keeping its powers under lock and key.

"No." Sam swallowed, trying hard not to look at it and knowing that if he did his resolve would instantly crumble. It was wrong, he knew that. He shouldn't use his powers and he shouldn't thirst for demon blood, but he did. He had been planning to drain a demon dry, hadn't he? His hands shook, itching to reach out and snatch the blood from Ruby's hands. "I can't."

Ruby rolled her eyes. "Come on, Sam. This is the right choice. You can use these powers to help us, right? Beat the demons, get us the hell outta dodge?"

"I- yeah, maybe." Sam refused to look at her or the blood, instead focusing on the metallic grey of the walls that suddenly felt too close together. "I dunno."

"You do know, Sam." Ruby held the vial in front of him and he could ignore it no longer, turning to look at the vivid red of the blood as it sloshed against the glass. "This will work, okay? Trust me."

The last words barely registered. Sam didn't trust her entirely, he barely knew her, but she had tried to help him escape and she was giving him demon blood and that was okay, wasn't it? That was okay. He unstoppered the vial and gulped down the blood, trying not to think about how sick and wrong it all was. The blood slipped down his throat as smooth as silk and within a few seconds it was over. The vial clattered to the ground and rolled but didn't break.

It was only then that he thought to consider the others, looking down at their unconscious forms. "Will they be okay?"

"They'll be fine." Seeing his worry, Ruby sighed and rolled her eyes again. "Come on, we'll wake 'em up while we wait for that stuff to kick in."

* * *

><p>When Ava awoke, it was to a pounding head and a heavy heart.<p>

He had been there.

Someone had knocked her out, and he had been there. The crazy guy, the guy with the yellow eyes who wanted to drug them and make them fight each other. There was no escape from him. He was in her dreams.

How was that possible?

She looked up, straight into a pair of unfamiliar eyes that were set in an unfamiliar face with unfamiliar hair and unfamiliar clothes. A young woman with blonde hair and an impatient expression was crouched in front of her and a brief flash of her dream flickered through her memory.

Dangerous. Evil.

_You need to stop her, Ava. She's evil._

_Her name's Ruby, and she's here to hurt you._

"What happened?" She pushed herself up so that she was sitting against the wall, glancing around the cramped elevator at Sam, Ruby, Jake and Max (both of whom looked equally confused).

Sam shifted uncomfortably. "This is Ruby. She's, uh- she's gonna help us." He didn't sound certain. Ava frowned.

"Can we trust her?"

"Well, about as much as we can trust everyone else around here." Sam hunched a shoulder. "We're kinda stuck with her."

Something wasn't right.

Something hadn't been right for the past few days, granted, but something was especially not right at that moment.

The yellow eyed man had spoken to her. He'd told her – Ruby was evil. She was going to hurt them. They couldn't trust anyone. Not each other, not Ruby, not the yellow eyed man, nobody.

She had to kill them all.

She had to stop them.

All she wanted was to go home; this was all too much, too soon, she couldn't take it. She had to make it stop.

And if killing them was the way to do it, then that's what she'd do.

She'd kill them all one by one – starting with Ruby and Sam.

* * *

><p>John squinted into the light as Caleb stepped out of his truck, a grim expression on his young face. He had his duffel slung over one shoulder as he strode towards them, clasping first Bobby's and then John's and finally Dean's arm in greeting. "Hey."<p>

"Hey, Caleb." Dean's voice was relieved; John knew it was because they could get going now, knew it because he felt the same way. It was time to go and rescue his son and kill the sonuvabitch that had taken him in the first place. His protective rage was aflame inside him, the urge to kill barely suppressed.

"You must be Daniel Elkins." Caleb looked the other man up and down as Elkins nodded.

"Caleb?"

"That's me."

"Great, introductions are done. Let's get going." Dean rocked on his heels anxiously and John clenched his jaw, nodding and not even bothering to snap at Dean for his impatience because wasn't it exactly what he had raised Dean to do, look after Sammy?

God, he missed his son. He missed them both. Dean wasn't Dean without Sam, and wasn't that scary? Dean had built his entire identity around Sam, and that was so fucked up that it scared him sometimes – when he had time to think about it.

"Wait." That was Caleb. "I think there's somethin' you guys should know."

"Get on with it, man," Dean said, gaze flicking behind Caleb to where the Impala was, their best way of reaching Sam.

"Alright, alright." Caleb shifted his duffel on his shoulder. "I finished up this exorcism a couple days ago, yeah?"

"Uh huh," John said slowly, not liking where this was going.

"Only I managed to get some information outta the bitch before I sent her back down." Caleb paused again and John frowned at him, not above using brute force to get the younger man to continue especially when it could be concerning his son. "That demon, the yellow-eyed one? He made more kids like, uh-" He glanced around between the men, obviously uncertain who knew what. John nodded minutely and Caleb continued, "More kids like Sam. More psychics. I mean, this guy is the king of Hell."

The king of Hell?

Goddamn. John had known the sonuvabitch was powerful, but never that powerful. What did the king of Hell want with his son, with any of those kids? Forcing down the rising panic – and John never panicked, not unless it involved his boys – and trying not to wonder if the Colt would even work on the king of Hell, John asked his next question. "What does he want with them?"

Caleb shrugged. "Hell if I know, man. I just know that there's more than just Sam."

"Hunter's kids?" asked Bobby, and Caleb shrugged again.

"Not from what I've heard – just regular kids. Sorry," he added, obviously annoyed that he couldn't be of more help.

John looked around at the men that stood by his side. "Alright," he said slowly. "We carry on as planned, okay? We go in, deal with any demons we come across and get the kids outta there. We'll deal with the rest later." John wanted revenge. He wanted it bad. But he would make sure Sam and Dean were safe first – as long as they had each other, they would be okay. That left John free to kill the sonuvabitch who'd destroyed their family.

"Come on." John headed for his truck, Elkins at his side. Dean would take the Impala with Bobby – after John had been possessed and nearly killed him, he wasn't prepared to leave Dean on his own – while Caleb would take his truck. The more vehicles they took, the better their chances of escape. Of course, they'd be much easier to spot, but if the whole king of Hell thing was true than he probably knew they were coming anyway.

John slid into the driver's seat and started his truck, the familiar chug of the engine soothing his shaking nerves. He couldn't afford to be nervous. Sam needed him to be focused and confident.

Because Sam was alive. He wouldn't believe any differently.

As soon as Elkins had closed his door, John pressed down on the accelerator and pealed out of the parking lot, sweat-slick hands gripping the wheel tightly. It was time to rescue his son.

Dean stayed right on his tail the entire time, and if John kept glancing into his rearview mirror just to make sure he was still there and still alive, well, who could blame him?

It felt like a lifetime before they finally pulled up about a street away from the building where Sam was. They parked there and made the rest of the way on foot, split up but never far away from each other because this was tough, the hardest hunt any of them had ever faced and they needed to do this right. If this went south, they wouldn't get another chance – Sam wouldn't get another chance.

John looked up at the building. It suddenly seemed large and foreboding, a threatening figure looming over him. He swallowed, mouth dry, and forcibly injected some confidence into his frame because he was John Winchester, goddammit.

His hand closed around his gun – not the Colt, but enough to slow 'em down – and he glared up at the building, murmuring softly, "We're coming, Sammy. And we're pissed."


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: No idea how you guys will react to this, honestly. I'm kind of nervous, but I hope you like it! Let me know what you think :)**

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><p>The familiar tingle of power coursed through Sam's veins, filling him with confidence and the knowledge that he could do this, he could find his family and get out of here. He could do it.<p>

As soon as they got out of the damn elevator, anyway.

"What do we do now?" The irritation in Max's voice was ruined somewhat by the way his voice broke in the middle of the sentence.

Jake shrugged, Ava looked distracted and Ruby smiled. None of those were encouraging responses. "I'm sure Sam can take care of it, right Sam?"

Sam shot her a surprised look. Was she – was she going to tell them about the blood? "Uh," he said.

"Come on," she wheedled, lipsticked grin flashing across her face. "We know you can do it, Sam. You've done this kinda thing before, right?"

"Uh," said Sam again. "I guess so."

"W-what kinda stuff?" Max looked between the two of them with confusion. "What's going on?"

Sam grimaced. He had to do this, he knew that, there was no way they'd get out of here otherwise – but that didn't mean he had to like it. "Alright." He swallowed, screwed his eyes shut and focused, hand reaching out of its own accord. Focus, that was all he needed to do. He was in control here.

There was quiet as the others watched him, only the sound of his heavy breathing filling the air as he tried to force the elevator into motion. His arm shook with the effect; still the elevator didn't move. "C'mon," he gritted out, trying to forget how the others were staring at him like he was crazy – trying to forget everything except how they needed to get out of here and he could get them there.

Dean. He needed Dean, more than he had ever needed anything in his entire life. Blood rushed in his ears, blocking out everything but the feeling of power as it surged through him and suddenly the elevator lurched into life, flinging itself downwards and sending them all tumbling to the ground. Just as suddenly, it stopped. Slowly, the doors slid open.

Picking themselves up from the ground, they stepped out one by one – they could only have made it one floor down, but they could take the stairs from here rather than stay in an elevator with a death-wish.

Only they never made it to the stairs.

As they stepped out into a spacious office, they were greeted by a pair of bright yellow eyes. Sam's breath caught in his throat as he took in the demon, slouched on the only desk in the room, papers and paper-clips and highlighters scattered across the surface of it.

He should have suspected, really. The demon had disappeared for so long that he really should have been wondering what it was doing – but he hadn't. He'd been so focused on getting away that he hadn't even thought about it.

The demon wasn't smiling as he normally was. His meatsuit's face was seat in a stony, almost disappointed glare. Without speaking, he raised one arm and thrust it out to his seat, fingers outstretched. There was a smack as Ruby hit the wall, pulled off her feet as she struggled.

"What the _hell_?" Max exploded. "What was that?" Jake and Ava were silent, staring at Ruby with wide eyes. The demon left her there, pinned like an insect. "I'll deal with you later, _Ruby_."

Sam gave Ruby a startled look, but she had eyes only for the demon. She was staring at him with something like hatred and confusion. Yellow-Eyes paid her no more attention, instead turning to face the cluster of children as they backed away.

"Hey, kids. I guess the others didn't make it, huh?"

Silence. Sam took another step back and bumped into a frozen Max. "What do you want?" he asked at last, trying both to sound brave and to get some sense out of the demon – for once. What others? Surely there weren't more psychic kids.

"First things first, Sammy-boy." The demon held up a hand and reached inside his tan jacket, eventually producing three glass vials almost identical to the one Sam had received from Ruby (had she managed to steal it from him somehow?). "Got a little something for ya, kids. It's only fair, right?" he added, grinning at Sam as he tossed the vials to each of the other kids in turn.

Jake stared at it. "What the hell's this?"

"Don't pretend you don't want it, Jakey. It's alright – we're all friends here." They glared at him, and he raised his hands in surrender. "Whatever, okay? I'm just sayin', you guys need this stuff. Might as well take a swig, huh?"

Jake swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He looked torn. Ava, on the other hand, had already unstoppered the vial and was gulping the blood down before Sam could stop her. It was only now that he noticed the way Jake's hands were shaking and shame crashed down on him. Jake was addicted too, of course he was – only Jake wasn't as weak as Sam. Jake had resisted the draw of the blood, something Sam hadn't been able to do.

Except maybe he'd spoken – er, thought – too soon, because the next thing he knew Jake had followed suit and swallowed down the blood. Max was already wiping the last of the blood from his lips with the back of his hand and Sam sagged in defeat. They were all in this together, more now than ever.

"What do you _want_?" he asked again, fists clenched at his side, power surging up inside him desperate to be released.

The demon chuckled. "You know what I want, Sammy. I want a general." His gaze flickered between them. "To lead the armies of Hell."

"Okay, you're a psycho." Ava waved her hands for emphasis, something Sam couldn't have done for the life of him, the way he was shaking. "You need to let us go right now."

Another chuckle. "You're a good little actress, Ava, but it's time to drop the act."

Sam turned to look at her, frowning as foreboding crept through him. "What act?"

The demon didn't give her a chance to reply. Tears were already brimming in Ava's eyes when he began to speak. "Little Ava here is not all she appears, I'm sorry to say." He certainly didn't look sorry. "She's planning to kill you all, one by one."

Sam's heart froze. She wouldn't. Ava was just a kid, just like the rest of them. She wasn't a killer, surely she wasn't even capable of it? None of that came out of his mouth, though, and all he managed to say was, "Why?"

Ava blinked away the tears and her expression hardened. "You were gonna betray us, Sam. That Ruby woman, she- she's evil! And you said we could trust her, so I guess that makes you evil too." She took a step towards him, confidence obviously growing with each word that spilled from her mouth.

"I- what are you talking about it?"

She didn't reply; instead, she lunged at him, sending them both flying to the ground. Her hands wrapped across his throat as Sam was pinned to the ground by an invisible force – the same invisible force that sent Jake and Max flying away as they tried to restrain Ava.

Black spots danced in his vision as he struggled, knowing he had to throw Ava away but somehow unable to, panicking as he fought for air.

He was going to die.

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><p>They burst into the building armed with the age-old adage most favoured by hunters – shoot first, ask questions later. Guns held rock-steady, they entered and immediately came face to face with three demons, black eyes glittering maliciously. John was the first to shoot, sending one of the demons staggering back with a hiss, and then all hell broke loose.<p>

Holy water was sprayed, guns were fired, knives were thrown. It should have been an unbalanced fight. It should have been suicide – demons were tough, even outnumbered. But these demons were standing between them and Sam Winchester, and that was never a good idea.

Eventually – several cuts and bruises later – they had the three demons bound and tied down, Caleb on standby with holy water while Bobby painted a devil's trap on the ground around them, always pulling away before any of the demons could land a decent hit on him.

Dean shifted impatiently. "We need to go."

John nodded tightly. "Bobby, Caleb, you stay here and watch these sons-of-bitches. We'll go and get Sam."

They nodded back in response, and John strode towards the elevator, not seeing any stairs and not bothering to look because they had already left Sam for too long and he wasn't going to leave him any longer just to look for stairs. He pressed the button for the first floor, the doors sliding shut behind him, Dean and Elkins. The last thing he saw was Caleb and Bobby, still in control.

It was okay. They could do this. He drew in a shaky breath as the elevator jerked upwards, Dean a jittery ball of energy beside him. "Focus, Dean," he said sternly because this was important, this was Sam they were talking about and neither of them could afford to make a single mistake.

"Reckon you'll be needin' this," Elkins said, handing John the Colt that he'd been holding before – the Colt that he hadn't shot a single bullet from downstairs. John nodded in acknowledgement, taking the Colt and handing Elkins his own gun in exchange; they all needed to be armed and ready.

Almost there. If he wasn't on this floor, he'd be on the next, or the next after that. They were almost there.

They were almost with Sam.

* * *

><p>Snap.<p>

A horrible noise, like the cracking of bones. Sam had heard it before, too many times – when he was hit by a car as a kid, when he broke his wrist after a poltergeist flung him through the air, when Dean got jumped by a werewolf and snapped his leg... the list went on and on.

He'd heard the sound often enough to know what it meant. And that, when added to the fact that the hands around his throat had disappeared, was not a good sign. Slowly, Sam pushed himself up into a sitting position.

And froze.

Ava lay crumpled on the ground, head bent at an unnatural angle as blood flowed steadily from her wounds. Jake stood above her, hand still outstretched and shaking as he looked down at her with wide eyes.

There was a long, terrified silence before Sam finally got it together, scrambling across the floor towards Ava. "No, no, no..." She wasn't dead. That kind of thing didn't happen to innocent fourteen year old girls. He swallowed, hands trembling. He had to put pressure on the wounds, someone had to call an ambulance... Ripping a section of sleeve from his shirt, he pressed down hard on Ava's obviously broken neck, knowing it was probably hurting her more but needing to do something, anything to help.

Over it all, the demon laughed.

"Butterfingers, huh, Jakey-boy?"

"Oh my God." Max stared at Ava, tears welling in his eyes and spilling over as he swallowed, obviously trying not to hurl.

"I-" Jake stuttered, took a faltering step backwards as he finally lowered his hand. "I didn't mean to, I wasn't, I- oh God." He stumbled forwards to where Sam and Ava were hunched on the floor, hands wavering like he wanted to help.

"Too late, kiddo." The demon grinned. "She's gone. Such a pity, as well. I liked her, she really had potential."

"You sonuva_bitch_!" Jake threw himself at the demon, his face twisted with a myriad of emotions, teeth gritted and eyes filled with tears even as rage fuelled his movements. He went straight for the neck but the demon just laughed, pushing him away like he was nothing.

"Going for the kill again, huh Jakey? Might as well, I mean, you're already a murderer."

Sam looked down at Ava, at the way her skin was turning grey and the fabric he was using clung to her neck, saturated with blood. She was dead. Bile rose in his throat as he slowly stood, legs shaking.

"Jake, don't-"

"Don't what?" Jake whirled around to face him. "This is all your fault, Sam! If you hadn't trusted that bitch-" he flung a hand in Ruby's direction where she stayed stuck to the wall "-Ava wouldn't have attacked you and I wouldn't have-" With a choked-off sob, he tackled Sam, hands closing around his throat like Ava's before his. Ava's cold, dead hands. "Oh God." He took in a deep, shuddering breath and repeated, "Oh God, oh God oh God oh God." Then his expression hardened, like something inside him had snapped. "This- this is your fault." Jake tightened his grip, tears finally spilling over. "Not mine. _Not mine!_"

"Jake, _stop_-" Max tried to pull him back, pulling in short, quick breaths. "Jake!"

That's when the elevator doors opened.

The last thing Sam saw before he passed out was his brother. _Dean was here._

With a tiny, weak smile, he let the darkness take him.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Totally forgot I was going to London this weekend so I couldn't update - I would have posted on Friday otherwise. Sorry about that. Still, here's chapter fifteen! I hope you enjoy it, let me know :)**

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><p>Two shots rang out at once.<p>

One hit.

One missed.

Jake screamed out in pain and fell backwards, clutching his shoulder where the bullet had hit and sobbing, face screwed up in agony. Ignoring the kid who had been attacking his little brother, Dean ran across the room and dropped to the ground beside a limp Sam as Yellow Eyes flickered and disappeared, leaving the bullet John had fired to ricochet off of the opposite wall.

Heart pounding, Dean pulled Sam so that his head was resting in Dean's lap and pressed two fingers to Sam's neck, searching desperately for a pulse. For a few heart-stopping seconds, there was nothing. And then he felt it – weak, but steady. Sam was alive.

Releasing a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, Dean tapped Sam's cheek. "C'mon, Sammy," he said, swallowing down the panic that rose when he didn't immediately wake. It took all of his effort to remind himself that Sam was alive, even if he was limp and pale with bruises forming around his neck. "Time to wake up, kiddo," he muttered, tapping with a little more force but unwilling to cause his brother any more pain that he'd already suffered. "Me 'n' dad are here now – took us long enough, huh?" He gave a self-deprecating laugh.

Sam's nose wrinkled, a tiny groan escaping his abused throat, and Dean smiled, eyes burning. "That's it. C'mon, Sammy, up an' at 'em." He glanced up at John. Their dad had lowered the Colt and was staring at the spot where the demon had been. It took him a few more seconds, but finally he seemed to snap out of his trance and he glanced over at his sons, eyes suspiciously bright, before he took in the rest of their surroundings.

Not interested in the rest of the world while Sam was still in danger, Dean turned his attention back to his little brother.

His little brother who was currently looking up at him through half-open eyes. "D'n?"

He felt his face split into a smile of its own accord. "Hey, Sammy."

"'S Sam," his brother reminded him breathlessly, struggling to sit up as he realised where he was.

"Hey, hey, easy." Dean wrapped an arm around his brother, carefully propping him up so that he was leaning against his big brother's side, pulling ragged breaths through his throat. That was good, right? He was still breathing. That meant his throat hadn't swelled up. Or was it only a matter of time? Dean swallowed, trying not to picture the Sam they had seen only minutes ago, still and unconscious on the cold, hard floor.

"D'n," said Sam again, pausing to haul in a breath as one bony hand came up to fist itself in Dean's shirt. "What h'ppened?"

"I was kinda hoping you could tell us that, dude." For the first time, Dean took a proper look at the room and didn't like what he saw.

The kid who had been strangling Sam – _strangling_ his kid brother, and what the hell had that been about? – was sitting on the ground beside the crumpled body of a young girl. The crumpled dead body of a young girl. She was still, covered with blood as the boy sobbed beside her, the wrecked kind of sobs that come when you just can't hold them in no matter how hard you try. He was still clutching his arm – probably doing it more harm than good – but Dean suspected the sobbing had more to do with the dead girl than anything else.

Still, it was hard to feel sorry for the kid when he'd been trying to kill Sam just a few minutes ago. Dean's protective anger flared and he pulled Sam closer to him, clenching his jaw just as Sam turned wide, frightened eyes on him.

"Oh my God," whispered Sam hoarsely. "Ava- is she-" He cut himself off as he caught sight of the body and seemed to remember what had happened. Tears welled in his eyes.

"S-Sam?" Dean looked up, ready to tear the head off whoever had decided it would be a good idea to interrupt them right now, only to be met with yet another kid – this one with blond hair and shaking hands and a tear-streaked face. What the hell was going on?"

"Is he- are you okay?" The boy wrung his hands together, awkwardly standing beside them.

Sam managed to dredge up a weak smile even as Dean glared at the boy, trying to figure out if he was a threat to Sam. "'M fine, Max."

Dean sighed, confused. "Ya wanna tell me what's going on here, Sammy?"

Sam shrugged weakly, bony shoulder digging into Dean's side. "I don't even know, dude." His eyes started to slip closed, and Dean shook him quickly.

"Hey! No sleeping, we gotta get outta here first."

Sam grimaced and opened his eyes with obvious effort. "Dad?"

Max frowned in confusion, but Dean knew what he was asking. "He's here too, Sammy. He's just... taking care of business."

* * *

><p>Taking care of business meant holding a gun on the blonde woman who had crumpled to the ground instead of being with his sons. Taking care of business meant going after the demons instead of making sure Sam and Dean were okay. Taking care of business meant being a hunter, not a father.<p>

But it would get the job done, and he could be a father later – once they were safe.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded as the blonde woman pushed herself to her feet, leaning against the wall for support. "What's goin' on here?"

The woman sighed. "I'm Ruby."

John twitched the gun, gesturing for her to continue, and she sighed again, louder this time. "I've been helping your son, John."

"The hell's that supposed to mean?"

Ruby glared at him. "You wanna do this now? We're all still in danger, John. We need to get moving."

John glared back. "This ain't over." Ruby snorted but John ignored her, turning to face the rest of the room. Sam and Dean were on the floor, Sam slumped against his brother's side looking like death warmed over. A blond boy stood in front of them, shifting anxiously and a little further away from them lay the corpse of a young girl, the kid who'd been attacking Sam crouched over her sobbing. Elkins had approached the boy, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, kid, it's alright. We gotta get you cleaned up, come on."

This Ruby chick was right. They needed to go.

"Boys," said John, more sharply than he wanted to. "Time to go." Dean met his gaze and nodded, prodding and poking Sam until they were both standing, Sam leaning against Dean but looking pretty good for someone who'd just been strangled.

Sam swallowed and then grimaced in pain before he finally spoke. "W-what about Ava?" And _damn_, but it was good to hear the kid's voice again, even if it was shredded and weak and scared. Flashing what he hoped was a reassuring smile in his sons' direction, John turned to regard the girl's body – Ava, he assumed. He took a step closer until he was standing in the pool of blood that surrounded her. Elkins had managed to coax the other boy into standing up and was leading him away from the body.

"We'll come back for her, Sammy," promised John as his sons came to stand at his side. "I swear. But we need to get you guys outta here first, it's not safe."

Tremulously, Sam nodded. Then, with a single shaky hand, he crouched down and slid down the girl's eyelids, hiding her shocked, glazed eyes from the world. "Bye, Ava," he whispered, voice hoarsely forcing itself from his throat.

Mouth dry, John tightened his grip on the Colt. "Alright, let's go." With a brief backwards glance to make sure everyone was following, John headed for the stairs, not wanting to take the elevator and be taken by surprise when stepping out. He shot another look over his shoulder.

Dean kept one arm on Sam, even though the kid could mostly walk by himself by this point. His free hand gripped his gun tightly, knuckles white with tension. Behind them, Jake stood gripping his arm and staring blankly ahead with Max at his side shooting him terrified looks every so often. Elkins was behind them, stony-faced with a steady hold on his gun and behind him was Ruby, looking immensely bored with the whole situation.

Glad to know the other hunter would be watching out for the kids, John clenched his jaw, breathed in deeply and headed down the stairs as quietly as he could. They could be attacked at any second and he hated it – hated not being in control, not knowing every inch of the hunt before he plunged into it. But they hadn't been able to wait any longer and it was worth it just for the relief of seeing his youngest son, alive and relatively unharmed.

Of course, it could never be that easy. They were Winchesters, after all.

They were only one floor from the ground floor – almost home free, almost safe, almost almost almost – when Meg showed up.

"John Wincester." A slow grin spread across her face. "Wow, you guys really went all-out, huh? The whole gang's here." Her black eyes flickered over the group, her smile only widening. "How ya doin', kids? Having fun?"

"Go to Hell, bitch." That was Dean, of course. John kept his gun levelled at Meg, didn't even look round to chastise his son because they couldn't afford a single mistake right now, and that meant he didn't take his eyes off the demon. Meg seemed unbothered by the gun, not even acknowledging its presence. John hoped she didn't know what it really was; they needed the element of surprise.

"Oh, and Ruby. Of course." The smile morphed into a sneer. "I shoulda known you'd show up again."

"Yeah, well," Ruby's voice came from behind John, confident and not at all fazed by the fact that she was being confronted by a goddamn demon. "Didn't wanna miss the party, right?"

"You." Meg paused to huff out an angry, humourless laugh. "You insolent little-"

John had heard enough. He wanted to get out of here without using too many valuable bullets, but they needed to be fast and this was just holding them up.

He fired the gun.

The bullet flew straight through Meg's forehead, blue sparks shooting from the hole as if there was an explosion inside her head. Shocked eyes stared at them for a moment before Meg staggered backwards and then fell, as if in slow-motion, to the ground.

There was a stunned silence. Max whimpered.

"Huh," said Dean after a moment. "That thing really works."

And John turned to grin at him because yeah, it really did work – and they both knew what that meant. It meant revenge. It meant killing the sonuvabitch that had hurt Sammy and burnt Mary into nothing ashes. It meant one dead demon with yellow eyes.

Sam frowned dazedly at the gun. "What is that thing?" His voice was still quiet, too quiet, and damn but John wished he could kill whatever had hurt his son, strangled his son but he couldn't because it had been a kid, just another kid like Sam.

"The Colt," he answered instead of saying any of that. "It can kill anything."

Sam's eyes widened. "Anything?"

The other boy didn't seem so impressed. "What the hell is going on, Sam?" he demanded, voice wobbling. "They- they just killed her!"

John watched as his son winced. "It's okay, Max," Sam said at last.

"She's_ dead_, Sam! What part of that is okay?"

"We don't have time for this," snapped Elkins. "We need to get goin'."

"He's right, y'know. This place jam-packed with all kinds'a _unsavoury_ characters."

In an instant, John had his gun on the demon, who merely grinned at him. There was something dangerous in his expression, though – more so than usual – as he looked down at the body of Meg's meatsuit. "You made a mistake killing her."

"Yeah?" John's hand didn't waver. "I wouldn't worry about her. Dean, get your brother out of here." He didn't need to look to know that Dean would be shepherding Sam, Max and the other boy downstairs to Bobby and Caleb, to freedom.

His sons were safe.

Now he just had to make sure they stayed that way.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: This chapter was a killer to write, but it's finally here. I hope you enjoy Chapter 16!**

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><p>Holy <em>shit<em>.

Their dad was _awesome_. He'd just killed a freakin' demon! Dean grinned to himself, pulling Sam closer to his side as they carefully made their way down the stairs. They weren't out of the woods yet, but they were pretty damn close.

The thing that had killed Mom was right up those stairs. The thing that had hurt Sam and destroyed their lives. The thing that had made them who they were today.

Today was the day it would die, and Dean's only regret was that he wouldn't get to pull the trigger himself.

Any minute now, their quest for revenge would be over, and the thought was almost enough to make him forget his little brother, trembling where he was tucked beneath Dean's arm.

Almost. They stepped down the final step to find Bobby and Caleb standing over the two demons, who were slumped in their chairs, bodies limp. Ruby followed them down, stopping just before she bumped into them.

"Oh my God," whimpered Max. Sam held out a hand vaguely and placed it on his shoulder in comfort.

"It's okay, Max."

The voices made Bobby and Caleb turn, instantly on guard with guns pointed straight at them. Dean felt Sam tense beside him and heard Max whimper again as he raised his hands in surrender. "Whoa, hey, guys. It's us."

They both relaxed, lowering their guns. "You boys hurt?"

Dean shook his head at Bobby's question, but Sam croaked out, "Jake's been shot."

Caleb turned his attention to Jake, obviously working out who he was from the way he held his arm, tears still rolling silently down his face. "Come on, kid, let's get you patched up." More gently than someone who had tried to kill Sam deserved, Caleb led Jake outside, presumably towards his truck and the medical kit. Jake didn't even blink as they went.

Dean glared after him, only stopping when Sam nudged him. He looked back over to see Bobby standing before them with a grim expression and a bottle of holy water. "Where's John?"

Swallowing, mouth dry, Dean replied, "He's, uh- he's takin' care of the demon."

Bobby nodded his acknowledgement, his gaze shifting to Sam. "'S good to see ya, Sam." The _alive_ part went unspoken, but they all heard it nonetheless.

"You too, Uncle Bobby." Sam smiled – not a full grin, with a flash of teeth and dimples, but still a smile. It was a start. Dean squeezed his shoulder.

"You boys should head on out to the cars. I'll finish up in here," said Bobby after a moment, turning to face the bodies that had been possessed just moments ago, now only held up by the ropes that bound them to the chairs. Dean tried not to wonder if they were still alive and nodded instead, guiding Sam and Max towards the door. A thrill of excitement shivering up his spine – this demon was going down.

They stepped outside into the light, Sam still pressed up against his side like he was afraid to break contact. Dean's free hand lightly clutched Max's shoulder; he had no idea who the kid was, but losing him wasn't exactly at the top of his to-do list. Only once they reached the Impala did he stop. Sam slipped out from under his arm and ran a hand gently across the hood.

Several feet away, Caleb's truck was parked beside them. Jake was sitting sideways on the passenger seat with the door open. Caleb stood beside the open door with the medical kit in hand, and it was easy to tell what was coming next. Dean would have felt sorry for the kid if he hadn't tried to freakin' kill his little brother.

"Sit," he commanded. "Let me get a look at your throat." It looked fine from here, but you could never be sure and Dean needed something to distract himself from the tension in the air, the feeling that something was wrong, the knowledge that the thing that had killed his mom was just upstairs.

Sam wrinkled his nose but perched on the hood of the Impala, Dean standing in front of him with Max shifting awkwardly on his feet beside Dean. Dean grabbed Sam's chin and tilted his head up, frowning at the dark bruises that were forming. He knew how to patch up a lot of injuries, but this kind of stuff they didn't deal with. "Take a coupl'a Tylenol," he decided in the end, opening the driver door and reaching under the seat for their own medical kit. "We'll keep an eye on it, see how it goes."

"'M _fine_, Dean," said Sam, and he sounded like he'd been gargling glass.

"Mmhm," said Dean vaguely, searching the medical kit until he found what he was looking for. "Ya sure sound it." He popped out a couple of pills and handed them to Sam, who grimaced as he dry-swallowed them.

"So..." Dean leaned back against the Impala, shoulder brushing against Sam's. "What happened in there, Sammy?"

Pale faced, Sam hunched his shoulders. "I- I don't... I don't know, Dean."

Dean frowned. "You don't remember?"

"Yeah, I remember, but- I dunno, Dean." Sam sounded utterly miserable, and with it came the instant urge to comfort him, make everything better – but he couldn't do that without knowing what had happened. He knocked their shoulders together in encouragement. "He, uh, he-" Sam paused again, swallowed and then continued, forcing out his next sentence. "He gave us demon blood."

Dean's stomach dropped, heart freezing in his chest. For a moment all he could hear was the roaring in his ears before everything came rushing back. "What?"

Sam wrapped his arms around himself. "The demon, he wanted us to- to fight each other, that's why Ava... that's why she's d-dead, because Jake killed her but he didn't _mean_ to, Ava was trying to kill me and-" He paused, sucking in a deep, shaky breath. The words that had poured out of him like a geyser seemed to have dried up. Tears welled in his brother's eyes and Dean might not have known just how to fix this because this was huge, bigger than he knew what to do with, but he sure as hell knew how to comfort Sam so he wrapped his arms around his brother and pulled him close.

Sam buried his head in Dean's chest, arms tightening around him as Dean stroked his hair. He couldn't bring himself to care that they were having a huge chick-flick moment in plain view – Sam was more important.

"It's okay, Sammy," he whispered as Sam fisted a hand in his shirt. "We'll fix this, I promise. It's okay. It'll be alright, ya know why?"

Sam pulled away, wiping at the tears that rolled down his cheeks. "'Cause you're here?"

Even with everything that had happened, Dean felt his lips tug into a smile, unable to help the warmth that spread inside him whenever Sam said something wussy like that. "That's right. And I'm not gonna let anything bad happen to you."

Max cleared his throat uncomfortably, and Sam finally seemed to remember the other boy's presence as he startled, pulling away from Dean a little. "Max, are you- are you hurt?"

The other boy looked surprised, as though he wasn't used to hearing such a question. "Yeah, I'm, uh, I'm fine." He had finally stopped crying, his terrified expression changed into something fiercer and more determined. "Just, uh... what the hell is goin' on? Demons? You guys know you're crazy, right?"

"Well, somethin' freaky's goin' on, so unless you got a better answer how about you shut your mouth?" snapped Dean, finally tearing his gaze away from Sam.

His brother placed a placating hand on his arm. "Dean." Then he turned to Max. "Look, Max, I know it's hard to believe, but they really do exist."

Max laughed shakily. "You're crazy."

"Well, I really couldn't give a crap what you think," Dean said easily. "Just try not to get us all killed."

Not that that they'd have to worry about that for much longer.

* * *

><p>"Oh," drawled the demon, hands raised in mock surrender. "I am<em> shaking<em> in my boots." His yellow eyes never left John's face, frighteningly intense. "Come on, John, don'tcha wanna know why?"

John's finger twitched on the trigger. He was so close, closer than he'd ever been; all he had to do was shoot. Except that he did want to know – more than that, he _needed_ to know why the damn thing had done it. Why Mary? Why Sam? Why them? Why was their family the cursed one?

Grip tightening on the gun, aim rock steady, John spoke. "Start talking."

The demon grinned, lowering his hands until John jerked the gun threateningly and he raised them again. "Sure ya wanna know? Ya wanna know why I killed dear, sweet Mary? Why I tainted poor, innocent little Sammy?"

John clenched his teeth, fighting back memories of long blonde hair and musical laughter – memories of a better time. "Tell me."

"Well, now," said the demon casually, "Mary was an accident. She didn't even need to die, she just got in the way." His grin widened. "Shoulda protected her better, huh, John?"

John bit his tongue to keep from screaming. Demons lied, demons lied... Only this one wasn't lying, why would it? He knew it was true, had known for years that he should have protected Mary, that he had failed her. He swallowed, fought back the memories like he always did and forced himself to ask, "What about Sam?"

"What about Sammy, indeed," said the demon. "It's too late for him, y'know. He'll turn, sooner or later. Already trusting the wrong people, in fact – but I'm sure ya already knew that, right?"

He needed to kill it. Now. His finger, slick with sweat but steady as ever, hovered over the trigger. This was his chance to get answers.

God _dammit_.

The demon laughed, as if it knew what he was thinking. "Shame about Ava, though. That coulda easily been Sammy, ya know. Still could. Better watch your son, Johnny."

Sick to his stomach, John went to press the trigger – but the demon stepped to the side and someone else moved into the firing line.

"Bobby?" Only it wasn't Bobby, he knew that. Bobby Singer didn't have black eyes. John heard the click of Elkins' gun. The man had been silent until now, but he still had John's back, and the thought made him relax minutely.

The demon grinned. "Hey there, kiddo. Good'a you to come help out your old man."

Not-Bobby returned the grin, but it fell from his face as he looked to the ground where Meg's body lay. "Is that...?"

"Yeah," said the demon, voice suddenly hard and cold. "It's her." Both demons turned to glare at John.

He swallowed convulsively, willing himself not to panic. Quickly, he adjusted his aim and pressed the trigger.

At the last moment, Not-Bobby shoved the demon out of the bullet's path.

And it didn't hit the demon.

It hit Bobby.

Two plumes of identical black smoke went shooting into the air – one from the mouth of Yellow-Eyes, one from the bullethole in Bobby's leg. It was getting away.

"No. _No!_" John took aim again, heart pounding, but it was too late. He knew that as he watched the smoke pour into the air vent above their heads and disappear, as he watched the two once-possessed bodies fall to the ground.

The demon was gone.

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><p><strong>Come on now, you didn't really think it would be that easy, did you? They're Winchesters, after all. I hope you liked this chapter, let me know what you think! :)<strong>


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: I know, I suck. I'm so sorry I didn't update last week! I signed up for Camp NaNo again, and that's kind of eaten up my time more than usual. Still, here's Chapter 17 and I hope you like it! Let me know :)**

* * *

><p>No. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening.<p>

"John."

He'd been so close. So damn close!

"_John_."

He'd let his fucking need for answers get in the way of his judgement, and now the demon was gone.

"John!"

He'd let his sons down. They were still in danger.

"John, for fuck's sake, don't make me hit you." John jerked his gaze over to where Elkins was crouched beside Bobby, glaring up at John. "We need to get outta here."

"Yeah," said John numbly. He ducked down and together they hoisted Bobby up, each taking an arm around their shoulders as they helped him out of the building, the occasional grunt of pain or exertion all that broke the silence.

God dammit. It was gone. Frustration welled up inside him. He might never get another shot. That had been his chance, he was sure of it – his one chance, and he'd let it slip past. God _dammit! _They stumbled out of the building, ignoring the bodies of the exorcised demons as they made it outside. He could see his sons perched on the hood of the Impala and he thought about their faces when he told them how he'd failed, how he'd let that thing slip straight through his fingers.

He was supposed to keep them _safe_. Bang-up job he'd done of that so far. Gritting his teeth, he helped Bobby over to where Caleb was patching up the dark-skinned kid and, without offering an explanation, headed over to his boys.

Dean stood up as soon as he caught sight of John, one hand rested on Sam's back. "Dad?"

John closed his eyes and fought back frustrated tears. He needed to be strong for his boys. Slowly, he shook his head. "It got away."

When he opened his eyes, he saw his sons, staring at him in shock. Sam was pressed up against Dean's side, wide eyes locked on John, and after a moment Dean forced out, "How?"

John swallowed, not wanting to admit his mistake. His sons didn't need to hear excuses, they needed to hear that he'd done the job properly – but he hadn't. "It- uh, it offered me answers. I got distracted, slipped up."

Dean was looking at him like he couldn't believe John had actually said that, couldn't believe John could actually mess up like this. He couldn't read Sam's expression, but his youngest was quick to absolve him of blame. "It's okay, Dad. It wasn't your fault."

John smiled at him sadly, grateful for his son's attempt to comfort him – God, when had his youngest son gotten so grown up? He shouldn't be looking at him like that, with eyes far too old for his face. "Thanks, Sammy, but I think we all know that ain't true. I screwed up, but it ain't gonna happen again. We'll get this thing." He met each of his sons' eyes in turn. "I promise."

Sam pressed himself up even closer to Dean's side, but his brother didn't seem to mind, tightening his grip on Sam. "Can we just get out of here?" asked Sam, voice rough and quiet.

John nodded stiffly. "Are you hurt?" He grasped Sam's shoulder, tugging him gently forwards. With an air of reluctance, Dean let go, allowing John to check Sam over.

"'M fine, Dad," said Sam, but he tolerated John's fussing. He just needed to make sure his son was okay, wasn't hurt because he had screwed up and let the demon get away. It was an unexpected show of vulnerability, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He wrapped his arms tightly around Sam, pulling him to his chest. Sam went stiff with surprise before he brought up his own arms to tentatively embrace John.

"Uh, right then," said John gruffly, releasing his son. "We should... get going."

"Sam?" It wasn't Dean or John who had spoken; it was a blonde boy about Sam's age, staring at them with bloodshot eyes.

"Max? What's wrong?" Sam pulled away from John and Dean, approaching the boy.

Max huffed out a humourless laugh. "Apart from everything?" There was a pause, then, "Are you guys leaving?"

Sam glanced back at Dean, who gave a tight nod, before turning to Max. "Yeah, we are. We'll be back, though. These guys will keep you safe."

"Who even are they, dude?" Max looked close to tears.

Sam looked back at John and Dean for reassurance. "They're, uh, family friends. Look, they won't let anything hurt you, okay?"

"But-"

"Okay," interrupted Sam. "Hang on." He darted behind Dean, disappeared inside the Impala and rooted around in the glove compartment for a few moments, coming back with a pen. He grabbed Max's hand and scribbled something on it. "This is my dad's number," he said, glancing back at John uncertainly. John offered a grim smile and a nod. If this kid needed their help, it was best to be able to reach him first. "Just call us if you need help, okay?"

Max looked at his hand doubtfully. "Okay." He swallowed. "Be careful."

Sam smiled at him sadly. Both of them looked very young, far too young to be involved in such a war. John had wanted to keep his children out of this fight. "You too." He moved back to Dean's side. "We going now?"

John nodded. "Stay close, Dean," he said, taking long strides towards his truck and watching as the boys clambered into the Impala. He didn't want to let them go, not now. They had to stay safe.

Fury swelled inside him as he slid behind the wheel of his truck. So close! "God dammit," he hissed, breathing in deeply. He had to keep calm. They could still get this thing. They still had the Colt. They still had a chance.

With that thought, he kicked his truck into motion and sped off towards the motel, his boys right behind him.

* * *

><p>The silence in the car was heavy. Sam sank further down into his seat, wishing it would swallow him whole.<p>

"Y'okay, dude?" Dean's eyes never left the road.

Sam shot him a look, and Dean smirked humourlessly. "Yeah, okay. Stupid question."

There was more silence, and Dean huffed out a sigh. "We'll get this thing, Sam, okay? Dad knows what he's doing."

Sam nodded. He couldn't blame Dad, he supposed. They'd been on this revenge mission for fourteen years; it was only right that they should get some answers by the end of it. He just wished that Dad had been faster, that they didn't have to deal with this crap any more.

"Dean?"

Dean glanced over at him. "Yeah?"

"Are you..." Sam paused, finding his courage. "Are you gonna tell Dad about the demon blood?"

Dean gave him a grim smile. "Kinda have to, dude."

Sam's heart sank, a leaden weight that made him slump down even further. "Please don't." It was nearly a whisper.

"Hey." Dean's voice was firm, making him look up. One hand came out to grasp Sam's shoulder firmly. "He won't be made, okay? I promise. It's not your fault."

"He doesn't need to know," mumbled Sam, trying not to think of his dad's reaction the last time he had found out about the demon blood over a month ago.

"It might help, Sammy. Y'know, maybe if he knew about it we could work out what the demon's plans are and waste the sucker before it does any more damage."

Sam swallowed around the lump in his throat, already aching from the combined attacks of Ava and Jake. "I guess." He didn't like it. Dad was gonna be seriously pissed when he found out Sam had drank demon blood again – and voluntarily, this time. Last time it had been forced down his throat, but this time? This time Sam had taken it willingly.

God, he was so weak. Dean wouldn't have needed the freaking demon blood. Dean would have been able to hold out until his family got there. Sam ducked his head, staring at his feet and feeling lower than he could ever remember feeling.

"It'll be okay, dude," said Dean, and there was no room for argument in his voice. It would be okay because Dean had said so. Despite himself, Sam felt a little better.

The rest of the drive was spent in silence until they finally pulled into the motel parking lot.

Dean swung open his door and stepped out of the car, Sam reluctantly following him and wishing the seat had swallowed him up when it had the chance. He didn't want to do this. Not now. God, Dad was gonna kill him.

They followed John into the motel room, stepping carefully over the salt line that wouldn't stop the one thing they actually needed to keep out. When the door was locked behind them, John turned to face them both. "You boys sure you're okay? Sam, how's the neck?"

Sam rubbed it vaguely. "It's okay." He let Dean guide him so that they were both sitting on one of the beds, scratchy quilt dipping with their weight.

John came to sit on the opposite bed, shoulders hunched and eyes dark. "What happened, Sammy?"

Straight to the point, that was their dad. No pausing for anyone, especially not at a time like this. Sam took a deep breath. He could do this. He just had to tell them what happened. The whole story. No big deal. With another huge breath, Sam launched into his explanation.

He told them about the white room where Azazel first spoke to him, about the demon blood that had been forced down his throat that first time. John's jaw twitched like he wanted to speak, but Dean shot him a look and he stayed silent. Sam was grateful. If he was stopped, he didn't think he'd be able to keep going.

So he forced himself not to stop, telling them about how he'd got out of the room, how he'd found Ava and then Jake, how the demon had spoken to them, how they'd worked out where they were and then how Max had showed up. He told them how the demon wanted them to fight each other, how it had given them all blood. And then he told them about Ruby – she'd met them in the elevator, knocked the other kids out and given blood solely to Sam.

"And I, uh," Sam paused, closed his eyes and blurted, "I drank it." He didn't open his eyes, didn't look up to see the expressions of disappointment he was sure Dad and Dean would be wearing. He just kept going, pushing forwards because it was the only way to go now. Next came the story of how Ava had come to die, how she had attacked him and then been attacked in turn by Jake, who had finally rounded on Sam and tried to choke the life right out of him.

"That's when you guys showed up." Sam stared resolutely at the floor, distantly feeling Dean squeeze at the nape of his neck in reassurance. He had never been so glad to have his big brother beside him.

"Well, shit." Sam looked up from beneath his hair to see John leaning back, scrubbing a hand down his face and looking stunned. There was rage in his eyes, but he wasn't shouting yet. "Sam?" He tensed, waiting for the yelling, the fury and the disappointment, but it never came. "We'll fix this, okay? It- it'll be okay." It was awkwardly spoken, like John was unsure of himself and even more unsure of how to comfort his son. "I need to call Bobby. Just- stay here."

* * *

><p>Demon blood. "God dammit!" John whirled around and punched the wall, grateful he had managed to keep a handle on his rage until he had left the motel room. The last thing he needed was to let his boys see him like this. Shaking his hand, wincing at split skin and bruised knuckles, he pulled his phone from his pocket with his free hand and dialled Bobby's number. He picked up on the first ring.<p>

"John?" His voice was harsh, pained and John suddenly remembered the bullet in his leg.

"Bobby. You okay?"

The older man grunted. "Been better." There was a gasp of pain and Caleb somewhere in the background telling him not to be a baby.

"You need a hospital?" He hoped not. They'd need all the help they could get – although even if he didn't need a hospital, Bobby would be in no state to go chasing demons around.

"Nah." Another gasp, a grunt and a, "Watch it, boy! It's nothin' Caleb can't sort out," he added to John. "Careful, boy! I wanna keep my leg, ya know!"

John smiled despite himself. "Listen, Bobby, I just spoke to Sam."

"Yeah?" Bobby was instantly more attentive. "What'd he say?"

"It's bad, Bobby. Real bad." John leant against the wall behind him. "Demon blood bad."

Bobby let out a low whistle. "Balls."

"Yeah." He pushed off the wall and started to pace. "I don't know what to do, Bobby. He barely made it through the last time, and the fuckin' demon that fixed him is dead."

Bobby murmured his agreement. "Alright, so maybe killin' the demon that gave him the blood'll do the trick. Worth a shot."

"Yeah," said John again, flatly. "Except that we lost the damn thing."

"Then we'll find it!" Bobby raised his voice a little, still gasping with pain.

John grunted. "Alright. Listen, I should get back to the boys. Call me when Caleb's patched you up."

"Will do." There was a click as Bobby hung up. Blowing out a frustrated breath, John turned around. Only he wasn't alone any longer, because standing in front of the cheap, ugly motel room door was Ruby.

"Hey, John."


End file.
